Silver Terror
by Lanfir Leah
Summary: After the end of the world, a survivor must face both Time and Destiny to save himself and his loved ones. COMPLETE
1. Aftermath

_A/N: What started as a one-shot has evolved into a multi-chaptered, rather experimental story that deals with time and emotions. What do you do when all hope is lost? How much of your sanity will you be able to retain? I'm experimenting especially with the writing style and chaptering; so you might just return to the story one day and see how the layout and build of it has completely changed._

_The story has some mature things (i.e. death and sanity), so I gave it an R-rating. And of course I don't own any of the characters, I just love playing with them._

_I hope you readers will take the time to review! ~Lanfir Leah_

**Silver Terror**

_A man can't avoid what he is meant to do_

_when__ he's meant to do it_

_even__ if he doesn't really want to._

~ System of a Down, 'Soil' 

**Chapter One: Aftermath**

Trunks was sitting quietly, his chin leaning on his chest, lavender bangs partly covering his face. He had his sword on his knees. The well-kept blade shimmered in the light of the little campfire. Was he sleeping? He looked so peaceful… 

Marron could not stop looking at him. He was so beautiful like this. She shifted her weight a little in her sitting position and saw Trunks stir. No, he was not sleeping – he was meditating, taking in every sound of the night carefully. He was probably more aware of what was happening around them than she was. 

She was getting stiff. Irritably she jumped up, away from the little campfire. Treacherous light – why had she been staring at it? It could cause night blindness, she knew, and they could be found… but she had been so cold, and here, under the foliage of the trees, Trunks had judged that it was safe to build a little fire just to get warm and to eat some meat that had been actually roistered. She climbed in one of the nearby trees and watched out over the forest. Trunks was still sitting in their little camp, unmoving, breathing shallowly. The meditation was probably the only thing that kept him from going insane after the horror he had witnessed. What _they_ had witnessed.

Within half an hour, Trunks had seen his whole family die before his eyes. His mother and his little sister had been among the first victims. Vegeta, teamed up with Goku, had put up an amazing fight, leveling all of Capsule Corp and its surroundings during the battle. The amount of ki that had been thrown around had shocked the living daylights out of Marron and Trunks, who had been one of their happy roadtrips to nowhere. It had changed everything. Marron had made a sharp turn with the capsule car to turn back, but Trunks had bolted out, insisting he'd fly on his own. Marron had given him one look and had abandoned her car to speed after him. They had arrived only minutes too late, when an all-consuming explosion had colored the horizon in front of them an eerie mixture of black and orange. They had known already that they were too late. When they arrived at Capsule Corp, all that was left of it was a crater with charred, almost molten ground. Not even the faintest trace of Goku's or Vegeta's ki… and the enemy had departed already.

Too late…

Marron sighed and felt the wetness of her tears chill her face again. She shivered. Yes, it was a cold night. She doubted if she'd ever be warm again.

Three days after that fateful battle, she and Trunks were the only survivors. Earth did not have that much people left, she gathered. She felt for ki around her, but if anyone should be around here, they were either regular human beings, or people hiding their ki. Or corpses, for that matter.

All of the Z-senshi were dead anyway. 

She had seen or sensed all of their deaths. No one had stood a chance. "Mom… Dad… Goten…" she sobbed quietly. Her parents had gone down like any other human, as if their ki levels did not matter. They had been overpowered as if they were insects or bugs, only existing to be squashed. Their death has come as swift as anyone elses on the planet. Goten had done what he could, fusing with Trunks. Yet Gotenks had been no match for them either. Goten and Trunks knew it would be hopeless, because Goku and Vegeta had been beaten in their Super Saiya-jin 4 form, and Gohan had been crushed with his mystic powers mere minutes ago, but they had tried anyway. It had been a last-ditch effort to buy Marron some time to gather the Dragonballs and revive everyone. She had sped to Kami's Lookout, only finding that Dende had been the very first to perish. No Dragonballs, no Kami. And everyone was dead. Things had never looked this bleak before… until she came back and found the bloody mess that had been her best friends. Goten was dead, and Trunks was dying. That last sensu bean she had found in Korin's tower she had given to Trunks, to save his life. 

The first thing Trunks had said when he regained consciousness had been: "Why didn't you let me die?" 

She felt the same way right now. Why had she kept herself out of sight? Why had she had pressed her ki level down to less than a human ki? It had made her sick, but she had not been caught… yet. She and Trunks were still here. 

Repressing a ki down to one or zero was not healthy, it lessened the vital functions and made reactions a lot slower, but on the other hand, not doing it so was even unhealthier. 

So they were on the run, hiding, keeping themselves weak, cowering in fear. They were desperately trying to come up with a master plan that would save this world and their lives. Until now, they had been failing miserably. Marron was starting to lose faith that it ever would be the way it was before. She just did not see any way out of this.

The worst of it was that she just didn't know what this was all about. The closest thing this all looked like was one of the planet purgings Trunks had talked about; the ones Vegeta had been doing when he was still working for Freeza. 

The people that attacked them were humanoid, but that was about all they knew. They did not talk. Their armor covered all of their bodies and faces. It was silvery, from an unknown substance, impenetrable. They were like faceless killing machines dressed in silver. Their attacks were so powerful… they did not seem to have any weakness at all.

She did not even know where they came from, or who 'they' were, or what they wanted… besides the demise of every living creature on Earth.

It was so damn frustrating! Marron wanted to scream and kick and blow things up, and had a hard time restraining herself. She felt as if she was going crazy with the sheer insanity of it all. The world was dying and she didn't even know why. It was so unfair!

They had not talked, when Gohan had pleaded with them. She had heard him talk as she sneaked away to take off for Kami's Lookout. They had not answered any question up until the point where Marron had wondered if they even understood human speech. Or cared to listen to it. It was probably a combination of the both of them. What's the point to try and understand vermin you're going to crush within mere heartbeats? It made a terrible kind of sense, if she thought about it. 

_I guess nothing is meant to last forever,_ Marron thought, wiping the tears from her face. _I just want… I want… No, it does not matter what I want anymore. I thought of Goku, Vegeta and the demi Saiya-jins as half-Gods, but if even their power doesn't even matter… who am I to make demands?_

It was a lesson in humility that ached in Marrons heart almost as much as her recent losses. She had grown up with the notion that her mummy, daddy and their friends were the protectors of the world. She remembered Buu probably more clearly than anyone would have thought she would. It was one of her first memories; sitting with her mother and some others in a capsule aircraft while Vegeta had made his sacrifice. She had felt the fear and the sadness radiating from Trunks' mother, and the explosion. The memories were fragmentary, but she definitely remembered. 

One of her next memories was of waking up crying from a nightmare, and that her father had assured her that the evil monster Buu was gone now, that daddy and his friends had chased him away forever. That daddy would protect her forever and ever, that that she didn't have to be afraid, because daddy loved his little girl… 

Marron began to sob again as if her heart was breaking. 

"You're not much of a night watch, are you?" A soft voice said behind her.

Marron almost screamed when warm arms wrapped themselves around her and hugged her tightly. "Silly girl," Trunks said warmly.

"I'm sorry; I just can't seem to stop crying…"  

"You're not the only one," he said, laying his head on her shoulder, seeking support. Suddenly she realized her shirt was getting wet with his tears, too. 

"You're crying too…" She touched his cheek, awed. This she had not expected, not in a million years. Not Trunks, the one she regarded as her big brother, her great idol, her secret crush. He was eighteen years old, he shouldn't cry. He was so strong! She turned around on the branch and hugged him clumsily. "We still have each other," she said, swallowing her tears. She decided that if Trunks was losing it, she had to be the strong one for a bit. They could support each other, right? At least they still had each other.

***

The morning dawned crisp and clear in a cloudless sky. Marron could not stop shivering. Her too-low ki level did not do much to warm her either, and most of what she had been wearing that fateful day when she went out with Trunks had been either torn or too cold for weather like this. She had no idea the night could be so cold… They were still sitting in their tree, Trunks had fallen asleep against her. His body warmth had been too comfortable to leave, and it had comforted her greatly. She had slept a little, an hour or two at most, but she did not feel very tired. Just cold.

"Trunks?" she ventured, softly. She did not want to scare him into waking, because then there was no chance what could happen. He was too much on edge to risk anything like that. 

"Hm?" His clear blue eyes were instantly open and alert. "What is it?"

"Could we go and try to find a city? We might find some clothes and equipment there… Kami knows we need it. Maybe we can meet up with survivors?"

"Do you think its safe enough?" he asked her, looking troubled.

"I don't know…" She was surprised he asked her opinion, but she did not complain. It made her feel as if he considered her an equal, and she liked that idea. "We just have to do something; otherwise… otherwise… there would be no point, right?" 

He avoided her gaze. "I understand. I don't want to sit and hide forever, either… you could have just wasted that last sensu bean if we would. It wouldn't have been worth it." 

***

The next night they camped in a half collapsed barn at the east side of a totally ruined village. "I now know what Future Trunks must have gone through," Trunks muttered softly. He buried his face in his hands and made no sound for a long time.

Marron just waited, pulling her warm coat more snugly around her. They had found indeed lots of things. Clothes, food, and things she did not want to think about. If she could use her ki, she would torch the little village and give them a decent funeral pyre. Already the stench of death was horrible in some places, and it had been only four days in a cold environment. This village would be a breeding herd for diseases. Despite her warm clothes, she shivered. There would be no one to bury these dead people… it was so sad. 

She was so deep in thought that she did not even hear at first that Trunks was talking to her. Warm, sleepy, and rather depressed she had locked herself up in her own mind – something she had been doing most of the time since this happened. It was probably the only thing that kept her from going insane at the spot.

"We should try to go and find some of my mother's research centers," Trunks said, staring at the cracked floor tiles. "If I'm not mistaken, she kept some experimental stuff hidden in one of the centers south from here. Just in case CC would burn down, she joked." He laughed, but it was soft and mirthless. "Maybe something is still there. Maybe it's something we can use. That's the only thing I can think of to do, Marron."

"At least it's something… I could not think of anything that could help us. My thoughts are going around in circles, ending at the same point every time: our doom."

"Mine too, girlie," Trunks said softly. His lavender hair, usually so shiny and velvet-like, hung pale and lifeless in his face. His eyes seemed too bright and too sad for his face, and they were featured with dark circles. Trunks was only eighteen years old, but he looked old, very old. She wondered what she herself looked like. Probably just as bad.

Marron offered him the last of the instant meal they had dug up in one of the houses nearby. They had heated it on a small fire. It had been the first real meal they had in days, besides some hunting prey Trunks had provided them with. 

He smiled at her and took it, eating hungrily. Marron relaxed a little – at least he would eat again. Yesterday had been his first meal, and she had had to bully him into chewing and swallowing. Maybe he had a little hope restored by this new idea? Maybe yes, maybe no… 

Tomorrow they would go and hike to the southern research center and explore what was left of it, Trunks explained. From what he knew, most of it was underground, so it should still be standing there mostly. He was wondering aloud what they could find there. A ki-amplifier? An artificial set of Dragonballs? A regen tank? Ki-guns? Bulma had invented and created some pretty exotic stuff over the years, everyone knew that. For a few happy moments, they allowed their imagination to run wild.

"A time machine?" Marron ventured then.

She was not prepared for the sudden shock in his eyes. A flare of hope, but he regained his senses quickly. "I do not think so. It took Future Bulma years to build one, and she had a reason to do it. My mother did not have any reason save curiosity to try and build a time machine. If she would want to, it would be on her low priority list. Don't get your hopes up, Marron, there won't be a time machine to escape our reality in."

Marron shrunk back as if he had hit her. Of course she had hoped it, if only a little. It would have been beautiful if they could leave this reality together this way. There was nothing left for them here, only death. They both knew that.  Trunks was now destroying his own hope, projecting his words at her, as if she had come up with the idea of excavating that research center. For some reason it hurt her. A lot.

"Let's just go to sleep," she said softly. "Who takes first watch?"

"I will." He offered. "Sleep well, Marron." He paused for a bit before he added: "And wake up."

***

When they finally reached the Research Center, it was as they had feared: they were not the first to come here. The building was in bad shape. It was barely standing; it seemed as if even the slightest breeze would make the walls collapse. When Marron noted this out loud, Trunks shrugged. "My mother builds her companies stronger than that. I think this building could withstand an earthquake and still be standing proud and tall." His eyes wandered over the domed building. Some of the uncracked windows reflected the light of the dying sun. The glass shimmered as if it was on fire, and the white stone colored faintly golden. For some reason the desolation and the destruction of the place made it look unearthly beautiful. Trunks couldn't stop gazing at it in awe. He stood there for an undisclosed period of time, until the blond girl tugged his coat and asked with a tiny voice: "Trunks? Don't you feel those ki's nearby?"

He nodded faintly and pointed to the east. "They are in South City, ravaging what is left of it. If we're careful they'll never even know we were here. We're safe enough." He smiled at her, and saw her eyes light up a little. Of course he was aware of her hero-worshipping. He was just as fond of her. She was four years younger than he was, but she was brave and intelligent as any other of his own age. She could deal with the present situation as well, if not better, than he did, and he loved her for it. He was immensely grateful that she had been spared from the onslaught. If he had been alone, he would have definitely given up on all this. Not only that, but she was a wonderful girl with a beautiful personality. He loved her as a sister and his friend. Maybe even more. Ever since that fateful day, he felt very closely connected to her.

"Come on, girlie, let's explore the Center."

"While it's still standing," said Marron, a little playful smile around her lips.

He chuckled softly and led the way into the Center. They should be glad that the building was one floor only; otherwise not much of it would have been left. It was a dusty mess, with the crumbled walls and all, but it was still in fairly good shape. The Center looked certainly better from the inside than on the outside. It didn't look as if the Silver Terror had put their heart in destroying this building especially. Of course, it was in the far outskirts of South City, maybe a few low level kibeams had been all they had spent on it. Laziness from their Silver Terror? That seemed unlikely somehow… it would make them almost human. 

He shook his head to get rid of the idea, trying to focus on other thoughts. He opened a closet with capsules and read their descriptions - they were mostly things like bikes and capsule houses. Those could be useful later on, he judged. He stuffed them in his pockets and continued his scavenger hunt.

"Hey Trunks!" Marron called from the west wing of the building. "Come over here, will you?"

"Be right there!" He put the last two capsules in his pocket and zipped it off, before trotting over to the west wing. The west wing had suffered the worst damage, he saw: some of the supporting pillars had crashed down, which made the whole room look downright unstable. It would be dangerous to linger here. "It's dangerous here," he told Marron. He sneezed; the air seemed misty with dust particles.

Marron, her furry coat and her hair whitened by dust, was on the other side of the room. "I know," she said almost enthusiastically, "but take a look at this!" 

He climbed over a pile of debris and discovered that this part of the wing had been covered by a wall - there probably had been some secret entrance to here. He looked around, but he couldn't really see any traces of it in the mess. 

The door had a security lock on it. It needed some code to open, one probably thought up by his mother herself. Trunks thought for a moment and tried to recall her swift fingers dancing over a keyboard. She had used a lot of codes to enter encrypted files, but the one she had used most frequently was… he typed in his mother's birthday. Access denied. Then he tried their wedding day and Bra's birthday. Irritably, he clacked his tongue and tried his last option: his own birthday. If this wouldn't work, it was probably one of those locks that changed codes daily… if that would be true, it would be impossible to get in.

To his surprise, a soft ping sounded to grant them access.

"You got in!" Marron cheered happily, pushing the heavy door open. She looked over her shoulder at Trunks, her blue eyes twinkling with genuine happiness, for the first time in days. She looked beautiful like this, but…

"-Marron!!" he screamed, flaring his ki abruptly to prevent the ceiling from crashing down upon them. Marron screamed too, crying to cover herself from the concrete and mortar raining upon them. When the rumbling was over, they stayed silent for a few seconds, trying to regain their breath. His heart was racing to beat horses, as he kept the ceiling up. 

Instantly he knew that he had done something terribly wrong with this action. They would have survived the crashing ceiling, strong as they were. He could have protected her… but now he had sealed their doom. There was a good chance that the Enemy had felt him. A very good chance. If they stayed here, they'd be sitting ducks. 

But while they were supporting the roof, something familiar tugged at the back of his mind. It had been something he had seen in this room, from the corner of his eye…

Marron saw him wonder and looked over her shoulder. Her blue eyes widened with recognition. "Trunks, isn't that…?"

Trunks nodded slowly. It was covered in dust and debris, and the design was somewhat more futuristic and slick, but it was something he remembered from old photographs showing a boy with his face… standing next to this machine. When he opened his mouth to talk, he almost choked in it. His voice was shaky and filled with wonder. "Yes, it's a time machine. It seems like my mother built one after all." 


	2. One More Minute

_And did I ever see_

_Life is about to go on_

_In a minute_

_Life never goes on_

_Those are empty words_

~ The Gathering – 'Bad Movie Scene'

**One More Minute**

A strange feeling of déjà-vu gave Marron goosebumps as she saw Trunks checking out the time machine. She had seen a scene almost exactly like this before, on pictures her father had taken of Future Trunks. The resemblance was unsettling.

Some of the circumstances were different, but the dark blue coat he was wearing, his clothes, and his hair, were almost exactly the same as that boy from the future. On second thought, this was not so strange; Future Trunks had been of the same age as the boy that was climbing into the machine right now. They had experienced the same pain, and they shared their genes. Seeing Trunks here standing next to the Time Machine made her feel a little uneasy, until she decided that the future version of her friend had turned out fine in the end. Things had to be alright in the end, they just had to. They would find a way to make things right again… in the worst case they would stay in the past and help prepare for a dark future. There was no way they could come back here, ever. It would certainly mean their doom. And to be honest, all Marron wished for was leaving this place. It meant so many bad memories, so many wounds on her soul, that even getting in the near vicinity of her inner pain would break her down into a sniveling heap again. 

So she walked over to Trunks and looked what he was doing. "We have to hurry," he said, his voice ragged. "They must have felt me – there has to be a way to get out of here…" He was sitting in the machine, his fingers flying over the keys. "My mother designed it for normal people to use. It's not hard to set up a destination," he said, answering her questioning look. He didn't even meet her eyes, just kept uploading data and coordinates.

Marron looked at the design of the machine and felt her stomach clench. Did he realize? "…Trunks?" she began.

"What?" 

"I think there's only room for one person."

His fingers floated above the keyboard, as if they were frozen. He didn't move at all, his face stricken with terror. It only lasted but a few heartbeats, then his expression changed into something that looked like resolve or determination. "You should go, Marron."

"No!" She took a few steps backwards, her heart in her throat. "I can't do that, Trunks. I can't leave you alone out here!" Desperation crashed over her. She did not want to leave him, never. He was her friend, her god, her everything. She loved him. How could he ask her to do anything like that?

"I'll be fine Marron," he said urgently, but the pain in his eyes clearly telling he was lying. "I want you to get out of here, alright?"

"No, no, NO!" She was suddenly aware of tears streaming down her face. When had she started crying? "Don't let me do this, damn you! I'll just sit on your lap or something, there has to be something we can do! I won't leave you alone! I'd rather die! Why don't YOU go?"

He turned his face away, and she heard just the barest of whispers: "Because I value your life too much."

The whole world went silent for a moment. "What?"

And then it happened. He began to cry. "I love you, Marron. I want you to live…" 

"…Wwwhat?" Her whole life she had waited for him to say those words, and now the moment was there and she could only stammer like an idiot. It took a few moments before her senses kicked in again, and she finally had the guts to kiss him.

**

Their tears mingled as their lips found each other. Trunks pulled her close, savoring this last intense moment together. They were standing just in front of the time machine, locked in a tight embrace. It was almost as if the world was spinning around him. He had just realized that he really loved her – he had to do this.

And so, while they were kissing, one arm loosened his grip around her. Déjà-vu reigned supreme as he remembered his father doing something similar to him, so long ago. _So this is how you must have felt, father,_ he thought incoherently, dizzy with the sweet taste of her lips. _I'm so sorry, Marron…_

A short, violent hit in her neck, and her body went limp in his arms. For a moment he stood there, savoring her warmth, before he scooped her up and turned to the Time Machine. 

_They are coming, I feel them._

He laid her down on the floor for a few moments, quickly typing in last of the coordinates. Transpiration made his fingers slippery and his eyes pricked. He felt himself near to the point of hyperventilating with sheer terror. This time not only for his own life, but for Marron's. He could save her and go down in that blaze of glory his father would be proud of. He'd go down like a true Saiya-jin. He would be alright. He wouldn't mind dying, if he could only save Marron…

_Please Kami, give me one minute. One more minute is all I need… One last minute…_

Yet one minute proved to be too much…

Just as his finger stroke the last key and he stepped out of the Time Machine, heat and pressure and pain exploded around him. "NO!" He screamed, and powered instantly up to Super Saiya-jin 2, a level he had achieved during his first encounter with their Silver Terror. He blinked a few times and found himself standing among the debris of the Research Center, directly opposite to a silver-clad figure. "Go away!" he screamed, over the edge of despair. One of his last coherent thoughts was to lead the Terror away from Marron and the Time Machine, before he exploded into battle. 

From the first blow on that connected he knew he was losing, as they climbed their way up into the air. Every blow he received made his head spin and his teeth rattle. Every blow he received made him lose his focus a little more, and every blow he received increased his pain. He coughed up blood every time a silver-clad fist connected with his stomach. Yes, he was losing. But he had to keep it up, he had to bring Marron into safety, he had to…

Very few of his own blows even connected. The Terror just kept dodging – no expression on the mask. There was absolutely no way how he could read what his opponent would do next, no way to see any weakness. Just plain cold silver. Deadly silver. It's speed never faltered, and Trunks could hear no ragged breathing but his own. 

"Fuck you!" He cried, swinging his fists in fury, powering up just a little more. It was all he could do to prevent from dying in frustration alone. How could he stall? How could he see only a glimpse of hope in this utterly hopeless situation?

***

Down below, Marron felt her body shiver as she fought her way out of the fogginess in her head. She had to sneeze because of all the dust and there was a pressure on her body… Alarmed, she opened her eyes, only to find that she was three feet down under in the collapsed research center. What had happened? 

It didn't take long for her mind to connect to the present again as she felt two enormous ki's battling very close. 

_TRUNKS! _

She worked her way out of the ceiling upon her and found that next to her, if she'd glide down this heap of debris and concrete, the Time Machine was still accessible. It was dented and even more dusted, but it should still work.

She looked up into the sunset-colored sky and had to squint her eyes against the bright energy of Trunks' powerful ki. The armor of the Terror gleamed almost golden in the light of the dying sun. Funny, how she could feel the ki, but didn't see anything resembling a ki aura around the Terror. Maybe his armor took care of that? 

"That doesn't matter!" she muttered to herself, glancing at the Time Machine. "Trunks would want…" He would want her to escape. He would let her escape and warn their loved ones in the past, leaving this accursed place forever. Yet, she could not. She just couldn't bear to get up and hit that button that would take her away. She couldn't leave Trunks to die here… she would hate herself for all eternity. 

"I can't do it… Kami help me…" Marron felt fresh tears making trails in the dust on her cheeks as she tried to make a decision.

***

Trunks did not know where it came from. He felt his awareness dancing on a razor edge – the feeling of sweat vaporizing in the air, the soft breeze caressing his skin, the pricking and burning of his wounds. He was bleeding, and his guts were so clenched he could not make out if he was bleeding internally or if he was just tensed to the maximum.

He tried to anticipate every blow, every attack. Most of the time he failed horribly, but his concentration had saved him from much worse. The Terror was only playing with him, he knew that. He tried to feel and understand his opponent, reaching out and trying to touch his opponent's soul. Vegeta had told him once that Saiya-jin had a sense of rudimentary telepathy, although some Saiya-jin were better at it than others. Trunks had always heavily relied on that sense while sparring or fighting. Yet for the past ten years he had trained with people he knew and understood. The dead end he felt when reaching out for the Terror was as frustrating as its superior strength. He felt as if he were fighting deaf and blind. 

Yet this awareness came so suddenly that it totally blew his mind. For a moment he was so stunned that he registered something from his opponent that he did not realize what the feeling was. What was it?

Awareness, curiosity.

_Awareness?___

The Silver Terror turned its gaze from Trunks and looked down. 

_Awareness?___

His heart heavy, Trunks followed its gaze.

_Curiosity?___

He could not move, as he saw his greatest nightmare occur before his eyes. 

One finger, one beam. _Straight down._

It was like it happened in slow motion. As he opened his mouth to scream in denial, it just happened. Here, right before his eyes. That beam. That direction. 

Marron never had the time to react. Her chest exploded in a red mist before she had even time to cry out. She fell down like a rag doll, all life drained from her in a heartbeat.

Dead. Her beautiful girlish body, limp between concrete and wood, blood slowly coloring the white dust red. It was probably a very small hole, he could not see it from this distance, but it had very much hit home. It had pierced her heart as if it were nothing.

Marron…

Marron was dead.

The last thing he loved in this world…

_Oh no, this can't be happening… no… Marron….this is not true, this can't be true… someone wake me up please…NO…Marron get up!! Please Kami, whatever deity is out there and watching us, put this right because this can't be true, this is not happening to us not happening no its not she is going to live and escape she is not dead not her not her too no no no nononononono_

"MARRON!!! NOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

His screams pierced the evening sky.


	3. Rain and Blood

_Nobody said it was easy  
Oh it's such a shame for us to part  
Nobody said it was easy  
No one ever said it would be so hard  
I'm going back to the start  
~ Coldplay, 'The Scientist'_

**Rain and Blood**

When he came to awareness, he was battling to the death with the Silver Terror. Power, more than he ever contained before, crackled around him. He had not even known that he was fighting, it had been instinctive. His mind had simply blanked out and he had lost himself in pure rage… the sort of rage he had never felt before. It still filled him to the core of his being, pulsing as bright as his ki around him. 

Pain, rage and the image of Marrons sweet tear streaked face kept him going. 

His defenses were lower now, but he found himself connecting countless more times with the silver armor of his opponent. Strike, blow, dodge, smack in the face. Blood flecks in his spit. Never mind. Pain, lots of pain. Somersault away, kiblasts. Final Flash. Kicked in the head. The fight kept going and going as if they'd fight forever, but Trunks was sick of it. He wouldn't have it… he decided he'd go out with a blast. He'd give that Terror the fight of its life. His fists were raw and bloody, but he did not care. There was more blood upon him, more than was probably healthy, but at this point Trunks did not care that much about health anymore.

Rage and pain were the only things that mattered in his world.

_Marron's__ bleak expression as she stared into the campfire._

Kami, the pain was too much to bear. She had been just a girl. An insanely sweet and lovable and brave and smart girl. Why did this have to happen? 

_Flashes of his mother and Bra.__ Bulma teaching her daughter to swim in their pool in the backyard. _

_Vegeta__, coming out of the Gravity Room, a towel around his neck and with a fatigued yet content expression on his face. _

_Goten__, lying in the grass, looking at the stars on a summer evening. A drink in his hands, his usual happy-go-lucky smile on his face. _

_Marron__, all dressed up for a party for one of her friends. _

_Sweet little Pan showing him her first bike. _

_All gone.__ All dead. NO!_

He screamed again, desperately seeking something to channel his pain. He could not. The battle was simply not enough, he could not contain his rage enough to channel it all out. The Terror was breaking him apart from the outside, and his pain from the inside. He was fairly sure he was losing his mind… 

It wouldn't be long now. 

The blows he received grew harder and harder, and his vision was getting blurred and dark around the edges. He had to fight dizziness. It was over, completely and utterly over. In a way, he was glad to see that final blast coming at him. He had barely time to spread his arms as if to embrace it…

***

The rain awoke him. Cold water was splattering in his face, chilling him where he had not been cold before. His awareness brought the inner and outer pain back immediately. Trunks could not make out whether the wetness he was lying in was either blood or rain. Maybe both. It felt as if it had been raining for quite a while now. 

Slowly, he opened his eyes. It was late in the night, in the east the sky was already coloring grey with the promise of dawn. He rolled over on his stomach, to try and get up, ignoring the blood that ran over his arms as he pushed himself up. The pain exploded all through his back and shoulders, but he was a Saiya-jin prince, dammit, he would not let himself get down. Some idiot up there had decided he would live, and so he would. 

Even his tears were bloody, he thought, for a moment lost in the color of the tears that fell on the charred ruins of the Research Center. His mind was clouded by pain and despair, and he felt himself distracted by everything. It was a fight to stay even conscious.  
_The Terror…It left me here to die. Am I dying? Kami, I hope so…_

After what seemed an eternity he was back on his feet. He swaggered a few steps. His sense of balance was totally off the scale, knees on the verge of buckling. Yet he managed to assess the situation; it was obviously raining, cold water drenching his ragged clothes. The Research Center had been mostly blown apart, puddles of rain between heaps and bits of concrete. Marron…

Marron was lying only a handful of feet away from him. Staggering, he made his way over to her. She was lying on her belly now, having clearly been caught in some explosion that had tossed her over. Kami, she was really dead. She was lying face-down in a puddle of rain. One short, (almost) coherent thought (_didn't he know this scenario…?_) crossed his mind before he began to cry hysterically, calling her name over and over again as something deep inside of him seemed to snap.

"Marron… please Marron…. No… No…this is not fair… MARROOOOOON!!!"

If he thought he was losing his sanity before, he really felt like doing it now. Blood and tears and rain mingled on his face, as he called out to the heavens, cursing the injustice of it all. Ki quickly filled the emptiness and the rage within him. He powered up and up, taking in more energy than he ever had before. More and more, until something else snapped inside of him – a feeling he recognized from before. Power. Yet it was ever more intense and MORE than he ever would have dreamed of. Super Saiya-jin 3. He had achieved two levels within a week, and yet it would not be enough. It would never be enough…

As the raw power surged through him, he decided there was only one way to end this all. 

One way to maybe prevent it. One slight, slim chance to do it. He gathered the shreds of what was left of his mind and cradled Marron in his arms. There was not much left of her pretty face, yet he kissed her nonetheless. "One last kiss goodbye," he whispered. "One last kiss… I'll see you on the other side, but you won't love me. Yet. You will be a little child, devoid of worries and pain, and I'll see the innocence on your sweet face, Marron. That alone will be worth it. I'll see my parents and my sister again. And Goten, he will be alive too. Don't worry Marron…" He began to sob again. "I'll make everything right again. I love you."

It tore his heart apart to lie her down again, alone in the rain. "Kami…" he groaned, unable to tell himself she was up there in Heaven, unhurt and alright. He just could not see it, gazing down on her mutilated corpse. It was just so unfair…

He ignored the trail of blood he made as he made his way to the time machine. Why it had not been blown up he did not know – it was probably fate. Fate, or some Kai, had wanted this to happen to him. As it happened to Future Trunks. The parallels with his own situation were screaming at him; Marron's death, the time machine, him reaching a new level, everything. Standing in a bloody blue coat, holding a piece of coal in his hand, scratching the word 'Hope' on the side of the Machine. In the Future, his mother had done so, yet here, she was dead.

Still, he felt an indescribable urge to draw his own parallels with the Future. He decided that in some sick, twisted way, this was the way things had to be. And when Future Trunks had gone and changed the past, Life had tried desperately to put things right again. Life had tried to follow its predestined pattern. And it had succeeded.

"Why me?" Trunks wondered, leaning against the Time Machine, covering his face in his hands. He ignored his pain once more, ignored his drenched clothes. He most certainly did not want to look at it, not wanting to know whether it was blood or rain wetting his jeans and shirt. "Marron…" No, he would not look at her again.

He would turn his back on this world, and step into a new.

But there would be one major difference: unlike Future Trunks, he would not return to his own time again. He refused to, flat-out. He would see Marrons young innocent face and his own almost-innocent happy eyes, and that would have to be enough.

Maybe life would be merciful and he would not even survive the trip to the past. Bulma had always said one would have to be in top shape for it, because a weakened system could do 'things' with you. Maybe it would take the last shreds of his sanity away. Or his life. 

Yet, judging from the dirty tricks life was playing on him now, he was fairly sure that he would survive and arrive in the past. Three years in the past. He looked at the coordinates and laughed roughly. Another parallel with his future self. It was almost funny.

He seated himself in the time machine, blearily looking at the blood stains he made on the panel while uploading the last data into its computer while a new and eerie thought crept into his mind.

If Life wanted to return to its predestined pattern, would something similar not happen again in the new timeline he'd create? Even worse, would he see his loved ones die all over again? Or would his past self, in the new timeline, experience something similar?

Would Life not just trick him again, torturing him over and over again?

"I… I don't care…" he heard himself say, his voice sounding old, tiny and broken. "I just… I just want…" 

To the east, the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon. The rain had stopped. 

A new day dawned on a dead world.

"I just want to get out of here…" he whispered. "Marron… I will see you again…"

And with that, his fingers found the power button. 

_~End of Part 1~              _


	4. Interlude: Fragments of Images

**Interlude: Fragments of Images**

Nothing he had ever experienced could have prepared Trunks for what happened to him during his trip to the past. It was like his life was shattering like a mirror before his eyes, and the splinters were tearing his mind apart. Flashes of images, fragments of memories: they were dazzling around him and taking him on an emotional rollercoaster.

How had Future Trunks ever been able to go through this _three times_? The sheer pain and confusion he was feeling right now was enough to drive him insane, he seemed to be holding onto his sanity by only his fingernails, shuddering and crying in a puddle of blood, snot and tears. 

No mind, human or Saiya-jin, was designed for time travel, especially not after a traumatic experience as Trunks had been through. He was struggling against it, trying to break free and to hide behind his mental barriers again, but the flashes and the memories kept coming, ravaging and leaving open wounds.

_~The crater that had been Capsule Corp~_

_~Marron, gently wiping blood from his face, her other hand feeding him a sensu bean. Her soft blond hair is shining like a halo in the sunlight. She looks like an angel. "There are no dragonballs anymore." There is naked pain in her eyes, an ill expression on her face. She is so desperately trying to be strong. "And… it's just you and me now. Goten is dead. We… we're the only ones left."~_

He whimpered.

_~Bulma, scolding him for the muddy mess that used to be his clothes before his most recent sparring session with Goten. He turns away from her, hiding his laughter, because this is a weekly ritual, and he knows she's not that serious anyway~_

_~His father's voice coming from afar, smirking at him to get up and show his worth of his Saiya-jin heritage, while he is dizzily glazing at the floor tiles of the Gravity Room~_

_~His first kiss. She has long blond hair and has the sweetest smile. She is in his class, and Trunks feels warm with the feelings of the crush he has on her. She tastes even sweeter than she looks~_

~He opens his window and takes off, his ki level low, so his parents will not notice he is not studying. He has exams tomorrow, but it's a beautiful night. Maybe Goten feels like sparring or hanging out? It's not as if Goten would be studying on a night like this~

"…Let me go. Let me sleep. I don't want to see this!"

_~Marron's last kiss goodbye~_

_~That horrifying, gut wrenching feeling when they break out of their fusion and Trunks feels his oneness with Goten slip away – forever~_

_~The explosion at the horizon that killed his father and Goku~_

_~They are too late~_

_~"No... this can't be happening? Mom? Bra? Father?!!"_

_~"Goten is dead."~_

_~"Don't worry Marron… I'll make everything right again…"_

_~"We… we're the only ones left."~_

_~"I love you…"_

"Kami, no," he cried. "Let me alone, I can't take this anymore!"

_~Failure~_

_~Pain~_

_~Death~_

_~Loss~_

_~Just… let go. Let it all go… Mercy… Peace? Yes… let go…~_

Trunks barely even noticed he was laughing insanely as he gave into his feelings and felt his mind blessedly blank out.


	5. Arrival

_Oh, you're thinking back  
 you're going back to places that you've been  
Where days could last forever  
but you can only dream,  
Oh, we're going back   
I'm looking back to places that we've seen  
Moments that have been,  places we can dream.  
_~ Feeder, 'Summer's Gone'__

**Arrival**

It was a beautiful day in early spring: one of those first days of true sunshine, when it's really a little too cold to spend outside in just a t-shirt, but everyone's too grateful for sunshine to really care. Bulma was one of those people who couldn't care less. It was Sunday and she craved the feel of sunlight on her skin. She had set up her chairs in the garden, in a place out of the wind and in the sunlight, placing a blanket with Bra's toys at her feet. Her daughter was lying on her belly, happily humming a tune as she produced one drawing after another. Her fingers and clothes were steadily staining with the colors of the crayons and pens she was using, but Bra was quietly enjoying herself and Bulma was too happy to see her daughter play for once to complain about that. She loved her daughter to death, but sometimes she was just too hyper for her own, and her mother's, good. Bra was an intelligent child that, unfortunately, had a rather short attention span. She really had to be kept busy; otherwise she'd annoy the hell out of you. 

Bulma looked up from her magazine and smiled at her daughter. That's what you get from sleeping with Vegeta. You knew that she'd get a temper. It's only logical that she'd be fiery, with a parentage like hers. "What are you drawing, sweetie?"

"Oh, it's a story," Bra told her, getting up and gathering her drawings to show her mother.

"What is it about?" 

"It's about the dragonballs!" Bra announced proudly, waving with a particular drawing that featured seven orange balls. "Look, I even drew the stars on them!"

Bulma inspected the drawing and laughed in approval. "Good work. So what else is your story about?"

As Bra was telling her story of the drawings, Bulma wondered where her son was hanging out. Probably in the city, whistling at pretty girls with Goten. He was really 'at that age' when girls suddenly became interesting, and he was surely acting on it. They both were, actually. Last week he had come to her proudly and told her he had kissed a girl in his class. Yes, her children were really growing up. It made her feel old sometimes. She ran a hand through her aqua hair and listened almost subconsciously for the constant buzz of the gravity room. It was a sort of instinct, something she did when Vegeta got up early and went to train. The Gravity Room was situated right next to their balcony, so she often just lay listening to its humming on early mornings while waking up. It was one of those little habits that made life comfortable, she supposed.

Bra was just in the middle of explaining her rather intricate story about evil ugly dragons and her father defeating them, when a lot of things happened at the same time.

A nauseating feeling bubbled up in her stomach…

A flash of light blinded her eyes…

Vegeta came bursting out of his Gravity Room… 

And before her, a time machine just stood on the neatly kept grass as if it belonged there. It had simply winked into existence before her eyes. Bulma blinked for a moment, picking up her daughter on her arm as Bra began to wail in shock. "This is weird," she said wonderingly. 

"We've seen this before," Vegeta said, crossing his arms. "The ki inside the time machine is very low, but it has extreme potential."

Bulma began to inspect the Time Machine, absently consoling her sobbing daughter. "It's alright, honey. Nothing bad happened." She looked at Vegeta and said slowly: "It looks like the time machine that Future Trunks used, yet a little more sophisticated. The design is a little different… I think we can trust it." Also, she added silently, because this very design is on my desk in my lab right now. I dug up those old notes I made of Future Trunks' instructions mere weeks ago. And here the completed time machine stands. How is this possible? Her mind was racing through all possible solutions, every one of them wilder and more exotic than the last.

"Hey! Come out and show yourself!" Vegeta called in a demanding tone of voice. "We haven't got all day! I have better things to do with my time!"

"Don't be an ass, Vegeta." Bulma circled the Time Machine, suddenly noticing something she had not seen before. Stains. Red stains. "I think… he cannot get out. He's bleeding. I think that whoever is in there, is dying."

It took only one look of understanding before they opened the Machine. Bulma took care of the opening mechanism while Vegeta was on guard for whatever would come out. It turned out that his guard was necessary enough, but not for the offensive. 

The person in that time machine, covered in blood and bruises and obviously badly hurt, was Trunks. "No!" Bulma choked, as Vegeta pulled him out of the Time Machine. 

Even Vegeta looked stricken. "I don't know what hit him, but it messed him up pretty bad," she heard him mutter under his breath.

For one moment, Bulma couldn't do anything but stare at her son. His lavender hair was matted with blood, his face covered in bruises and blistered. And from what she could see under his clothes, it wasn't much better there either. His clothes were ragged, charred and full of holes, as if he'd been subject to multiple ki attacks. He'd probably be burned all over, as well. 

It wasn't until Vegeta snarled: "What are you waiting for, woman, get him some sensu beans!" that Bulma finally noticed her wailing daughter and the world again. She put Bra on the ground and raced into the house. Thank Kami they had two sensu beans left in her lab. She had asked a few from Korin since Vegeta had so badly injured himself a few months ago during training. 

When she returned only minutes later, Vegeta was kneeling over his son and trying to get a response out of him. "He's out cold," he reported. "He might have some internal bleeding, and at least four of his ribs on the right side are broken. I'm sure about two more on his left side."

"How did you suddenly get to be a medical expert?" asked Bulma, while kneeling in the grass.

Vegeta gave her a dark glare. "I was a soldier, remember. Of course I can assess physical damage."

"Trunks?" Bra asked with a tiny voice, touching his face. "Trunks are you alright?" She looked up at her mother, who kneeled and gave her brother a badly needed sensu bean. "This isn't our Trunks, is he?" she asked. "He is older." The blue-haired girl watched her brother carefully as the bean thankfully did its work. "Trunks?" she asked again.

Trunks' body shuddered with light spasms and rolled over to the side. He began to cough, clots of blood appeared in the grass. Bra yelped and hopped backwards to give him space. She shot a panicked look at her mother, new tears welling into her eyes. "Trunks? Are you OK? Truuu-nks!"

"Trunks, sweetie, you can open your eyes," Bulma added to her daughter's plea. "You're okay, we healed you."

Trunks eyes opened so suddenly that she jerked back a little. Later she wouldn't be able to recall if it had been the unexpectedness of his action, or the pure pain in his blue eyes. "Mom?" he croaked, his face displaying so much emotion that her heart was breaking. His lips trembled. He whispered, his voice full of disbelief: "You're alive?" 

"Of course I am, sweetie," Bulma said tenderly, stroking the hair of the blood-covered young boy in tattered clothes that she could only call her son. She was not really prepared for his arms locking around her shoulders as he fell against her, weeping heartbrokenly for all he was worth, but she tried to console him as much as possible, sharing a shocked look with Vegeta. What happened to him? She mouthed.

Vegeta shook his head and did not tear his gaze from his son, obviously very uncomfortable. He kept his silence respectfully, watching Bulma hug her crying son as tightly as possible. 

Bulma kissed Trunks' lavender-colored hair, tasting the dried blood in it. She did not care. He must have seen the most awful things. So she kept him, soothed him, and loved him. She did not really want to think about what would happen from now on. This obviously meant bad news, but for now… right now she would give Trunks all the love and solace he needed, although she felt as if it would never be enough.

Her words sounded empty and meaningless even to her own ears. "Trunks, I'm here for you, sweetie, don't cry, its OK, it's alright, we're all here… You're safe here…"

"No," his voice came, muffled against her shoulder. "We'll never be safe again…"


	6. Explanation

**Chapter Five: Explanation**

"She likes you, I saw her looking at you!" Goten teased lightly, looping widely around his friend. He liked looping, especially when it annoyed Trunks, who was flying straight ahead with a look of irritation and embarrassment on his face. "Are you blushing?" he laughed, which only caused his friend to turn a deeper shade of crimson. 

"No I'm not," Trunks grunted. 

"Yes you are!"

"I'm not! And we're home anyway."

Goten glanced down and descended to Capsule Corp. Today had been a good day! They had been in the park all day, hanging around and looking at pretty girls. The weather had been very pretty, so the park was very crowded. And more people… meant more girls! They had eaten ice cream till their bellies had practically burst, the sun had been warm, and some girls were very sneakily trying to glance at them, cautiously flirting. Yup, this day had been great so far! Best part was that he got to stay at Capsule Corp tonight to eat, and Bulma had promised to order spare ribs for them. Goten simply adored spare ribs. He'd have to be home at bedtime, since they had to go to school tomorrow, but bedtime was still hours away, and they'd have plenty of time to enjoy themselves.

"Goten?"

Goten landed on the front yard and looked at his friend. "What's up?"

"Don't you feel that?" Trunks gestured to his house.

"What?" He was already replying when he felt it, too. "It feels like there are two of you. As if there's another Trunks in the house. That's weird."

Trunks frowned. "That's impossible!"

"Let's go in and check it out!" He tried to feel around for a bit, and noticed not only the whole Briefs family in the building, but his father as well. "My father's here too, it'll be ok."

"I guess…"

They entered the building reluctantly, to find everyone in the living room. Including Trunks' mirror image, only a little older. The sight was indeed a strange one to behold, and Goten was confused for a bit. What was going on here?

"Who are you?" Trunks accused the other lavender-haired young man in the room. He was sitting on the counch, Bra on his lap, flanked by Bulma and Goku. Vegeta was standing nearby, his arms crossed in his usual way, frowning. 

Two pairs of blue eyes locked, but the Trunks on the couch quickly tore his gaze away and studied the carpet. "I'm… you. From three years in the future."

For what must have been the first time in his life, Goten saw his friend totally abashed and searching for words. "What? You're … me? You're Future Trunks?"

The older Trunks looked up for a bit and smiled weakly. "Well, not the one from the Androids timeline." Goten noticed how terrible he looked. The boy from the future was sickly pale and looked as if he had just survived a holocaust. His eyes, shadowed by dark rings, were glittering as if he had a high fever, too-bright with unshed tears, hollow as if he had experienced things Goten couldn't even imagine. And Goten had seen a lot during the fight with Majin Buu. "Why are you here?" he asked.

"Sit down," Bulma gestured at them. "I think this is a story for us all to hear." She observed the boy from the future with an odd soft look on her face. "Do you feel up to it to tell us your story?"

"I suppose so." Future Trunks absently stroked Bra's hair and kept studying the carpet. He was very pointedly avoiding anyone's eyes. Goten wondered why he looked so pained, but then figured he probably wouldn't be here for fun. Something bad must have happened where he came from. Just like the other Future Trunks they had told him about. It wasn't the same one, though, he said as much. So he came from their future? Their own timeline, a few years ahead of them? Goten shook his head, he hated paradoxes. No one should mess with time traveling, he decided. It would save a lot of headaches. He tried to listen intently to Trunks, as the boy opened his mouth to speak.

"I… I come from the future. Not just to warn you, but… I fled."

Goten saw Vegeta's eyes flash, but the Saiya-jin prince kept his silence after a hard stare from Goku. 

"I fled because… there was nothing left for me. You see, in the future… everyone's dead."

"Everyone?" Bulma and young Trunks echoed at the same time.

Future Trunks did not look up. Goten saw his eyes fill with tears. Wow, he had never seen Trunks cry. He always said crying was for fools and weaklings, and he always acted tough even when things got really bad. Since this Trunks came from their future… and they were basically the same, Goten began to understand the scale of the disaster Trunks must have seen. "Me too?" 

"You were one of the last to die, Goten. The Fusion broke apart because you died and I was close to dying. Marron saved me with a sensu… but she…" His voice sounded really strained now. A lonely tear slid over his cheek. "She died too," he whispered. "I could not save her. She should have been the one to go back, not me…"

Bulma hugged him and shared a look of understanding with Goku, who nodded solemnly. "I think that's about enough for today, young man," she said. "I'll get you some sleeping drugs and you are going to sleep. You're spent with exhaustion and grief. We'll hear your story later."

"No," he protested weakly, trying to pry himself out of her embrace. "I have to finish this, otherwise I'll never be able to tell you."

"When did this happen?" Vegeta asked.

"It's been five days."

_No wonder he's crying, Goten thought. __It's so recent… He tried to imagine seeing his parents and brother and Trunks dying with no dragonballs to revive them, but his imagination was sorely lacking. Somehow the dragonballs had always been an option, a way of survival. Without the dragonballs… it would all be over. He tried to imagine his family and friends dying horrible deaths and no way to ever see them again and found his throat painfully tightening. He could imagine vividly why Future Trunks was so upset. He wondered what his friend would think of all this; Trunks looked as if he saw hell freezing over. His face was a mixture of awe, shock and some other emotions Goten couldn't name. _

Future Trunks was talking again. "…they came out of nowhere. Before I knew it, Capsule Corp was nothing but charred ground, Gohan was dead, Piccolo gone, and Goten and I fused to try and put up a fight. It was useless. We didn't even come near laying a scratch on them."

"Could you tell me a little more about those silver guys?" Goku asked carefully. He looked up at Vegeta. "You never heard from them before either."

Vegeta shook his head and scowled. "Wouldn't I have said so if I had? I'm as surprised as you all are. I've never heard from guys dressed in silver. They sound like pansies but since they kicked all of our asses, I suppose they're not. Is it some kind of armor or are they naturally born that way?"

Trunks looked up briefly. "I'm rather sure it's armor. It's a shield against anything: kiblasts, hits, punches, everything. Nothing can touch them… It's as if it makes them immortal. Unable to wound. It even shields them mentally. I wasn't able to sense anything from them: exhaustion, frustration, nothing…" He met his father's gaze, blue eyes briefly gleaming with challenge. "You try fighting something like that."

Vegeta met his son's eyes calmly. "I believe you."

"Do you think they're cyborgs, or do you think their armor is artificial?" Bulma squeezed her son's shoulder reassuringly. She kept her voice low and soothing, Goten noticed. She was trying to put Future Trunks at ease.

"I am not sure, but I think it's artificial. They wore it like armor. It was something in their stance, their way of moving. And they all looked exactly the same. I do not think a race can create all of its beings as alike as they were. They were with five of them, and all mirror images of each other. They all… they were all alike." He spoke no more, obviously at loss for words. Bra touched his cheek and snuggled against him, showing her affection in her own way. Future Trunks looked oddly grateful, but the silence stretched.

Vegeta's voice startled everyone. "How strong are you?"

"What does it matter?" Trunks' eyes could have bored a hole in anything they looked at. "It wasn't enough. It's never enough. It was only enough to make me turn tail and flee."

"Tell me, brat."

"Super Saiya-jin 3. I achieved it after... after Marron died."

Goten heard his friend's gasp and saw him look at his future counterpart in awe. They exchanged a look of surprise, but stayed quiet. These matters were for adults; they were not supposed to have an opinion in such affairs. Oh certainly, if there would be a fight, they'd be included, but Bulma had often told them to leave the thinking to the adults until they came of age. Goten thought it was unfair; Trunks was already fifteen, and he was fourteen, they could think just as well as any adult! Yet he respected Bulma too much to voice his opinion anyway. Besides, Vegeta would probably beat him up over it.

"Congratulations, brat," Vegeta told him. "Since strength didn't help you; how come you survived?"

"They left me for death twice," Trunks said. The corner of his mouth twitched, a bitter look forming on his face. "I guess I was just lucky, or unlucky. The battles seemed to last forever, though. The last battle especially. I was so enraged that I could have gone on for ages. I wanted to avenge… you all. It was fatigue that wore me down at the end. And resolve, I suppose. I… it all seemed so useless in the end."

"I'm sure you fought bravely," Goku said, laying his hand compassionately on the demi-Saiya-jin's shoulder. "You did well, Trunks."

"I cannot imagine you came so far on their mercy. Tell me, brat, was there anything else? Tell me the whole story!"

And so Trunks told them everything from the beginning. How he and Marron arrived too late and they had seen the destruction of Trunks' family, Goku and Capsule Corp. How the other Z-fighters had been killed one after another. How they had sent Marron for Dragonballs and sensu, Gohan, Goten and Trunks the last ones alive. Gohan had died to cover Marron's escape, bravely giving his life for her mission. 

_Sounds like something my brother would have done, Goten thought, his stomach clenching with emotions he could hardly name. He felt depressed beyond belief as he kept listening. He felt tension radiate from everyone else in the room. Tension, compassion, and downright pain. They all shared Trunks' grief. Little Bra was sobbing softly. She had always understood too much for her age. __Poor Bra.__ If only she were younger or less smart. Ignorance is bliss… Yet there was no way to protect her from this story. It would be upon them soon enough, Goten supposed. He felt nauseated._

Trunks voice was rapidly losing all emotion as he told the story, his eyes going blank as if he was shutting his mind off, telling about someone else's experiences.

He told them about Goten and Trunks forming a last-ditch effort in fusing into Gotenks, and how their collective ass had been kicked. "When the Terror saw the fusion unravel, he left us. He must have thought we were both dead. Actually, as the fusion tore out of each other and we fell, I thought the same. Goten was dead and I knew myself to be dying. I blacked out, only to awaken by sensu, and Marron telling me we were the last ones left."

It was strange to hear about your own demise, Goten thought. Strange and oddly painful. It gave him a sense of dread and foreboding doom. Future Trunks had fled into the past, but wouldn't the silver guys come here, too? In three years? And if they were so strong, wouldn't they die all over again? The nausea only deepened.

Future Trunks continue to describe how they survived the following days by keeping a low profile, and how they had discovered the Time Machine… and in turn had been discovered by a Silver Terror. He told how he had tried to convince Marron to use the Time Machine, "But she would not listen. I was fighting desperately, trying to get the Terror away from me, but then I… sensed it being distracted and curious. I was too shocked by the fact that I felt him to react. And he… it was only one blast. She died instantly. Probably hardly knew what hit her. I…"

"Tell me more about that!" Vegeta's demand came so suddenly that everyone jerked up from their instinctive cringing state of being. They had all been so moved by Trunks' story that Vegeta's voice came like a cold shower. The Saiya-jin Prince seemed to be unimpressed, listening with only cool, professional detachment. 

Future Trunks was at a loss for words for a moment, obviously jerked back to reality. "What do you mean?" he asked at last.

"You sensed its distraction. How come? Did you feel it before? Why only now? Tell me more about that." 

Goten saw his father also shift his position to listen more attentively. Why was this so important? Why would his father and Vegeta made such a point about _feeling their opponent? He never … wait, that was not true. He always worked with the emotions and awarenesses he felt from his opponent during a fight. This explained why neither he nor Trunks usually managed to land a punch or a kick while they were sparring. Goten thought it was because they knew each other so well. They had been friends forever, sparring was as natural as jesting or talking. It was something they had done countless times before. Yet, if one of them came up with a new technique or a new way to attack, the other always anticipated. Was this that mental thing Vegeta and Future Trunks were talking about? And didn't they speak about a mental shield? Funny, he never regarded fighting that way before, it had always been instinctive. __That's what you get when you leave the thinking to the adults, he thought ironically, yet tried to listen attentively to the conversation as well._

Future Trunks looked off in the distance for a moment, trying to recall and gather his courage to tell. "Even though I was reaching into a dead end all the time during my fighting, I suppose unconsciously I kept trying to touch the mind of my opponent. It's something I've always done, part of the way I fight." He looked up at the past version of his father, who nodded slightly, and continued. "I don't know where it came from. My surprise was what destroyed everything, basically. Suddenly, I *felt* what the Silver Terror was thinking, its emotions and reactions. I am still not sure if it let me, or rather if I had a breakthrough at some point. I had fought with rage and desperation, maybe I managed… that would be…so ironic…" He quickly wiped a hand over his eyes and obviously tried to steel his voice and composure. He failed. "If the break in the mental shield meant Marron's death, I'll kill myself!"

"I'm sure it was not like that, Trunks," Bulma said soothingly. "Vegeta just wants to look at all the possibilities." She looked up sharply at her mate. "Don't you, Vegeta?"

The Saiya-jin Prince snorted. "Of course. I don't really look forward to the prospect of meeting my end at the hands of some silver-clad idiots."

"I think none of us does, Vegeta," Goku said. "Let Trunks continue his story."

And so he did. He told about Marron's death, and was in tears by the time he described how he had escaped his reality and went into the past. "And that's how I got here. I don't know why the Terror let me live. Maybe to mock me or it left me to die. I suppose I would have, if not for the Time Machine and the sensu. I came here to warn you… but I do not want to go back," he whispered and looked up to the past version of his mother. "There's nothing left there for me. Can I stay here?"

"Of course you can," Bulma said warmly. "I'll get you some tea, and then we'll put you in bed to sleep as much as you need."

"Who will inform the others?" Goku asked. "I do not really think Trunks feels like telling the story again."

"We will!" Goten piped up, glad to do something useful. "We can call a meeting on Master Roshi's island tomorrow, or something, after school. Then we can tell the rest, and decide what we're going to do. Isn't that a good idea?" He looked at his friend, who was sitting next to him, bleakly studying the carpet. He had a nagging suspicion that Trunks felt horrible about facing his future counterpart like this. He didn't blame him. Maybe he needed some time away from Future Trunks to regain his senses. 

When the adults agreed and Bulma went into the kitchen, he went after her to ask. Bulma shot him an odd look. "How perceptive of you, Goten. You might be just right. I'll call your mother to ask her permission, but it's fine with me." She looked up when her son walked into the kitchen. "Hello dear, how do you feel about all this?"

"Awful," Trunks rasped.

"You can stay at my place tonight if you want to," Goten said. He tried to imagine the inner turmoil his friend must feel, but had actually no idea. He'd have to talk about it with him tonight. Or maybe tomorrow. It would be alright, he thought, as Trunks agreed with his plan. It had to be.

_~That night…~_

Trunks stared at the familiar ceiling of his own room, trying to find some peace in his mind. Some part of his mind was trying to pretend that everything was all right, that this was his own room and that Capsule Corp was still standing. If he used a bit of imagination, he could pretend everything was still all right, that he was in his own bed in his own timeline, that his family was still alive. He tried to, but it did not work. He also tried to sleep, but that failed, too. 

Of course he couldn't sleep, what had they expected? 

Seeing his family alive and well had been bittersweet and terribly unreal. He found himself at odds with what had happened; his mind had trouble accepting the past few days while he could clearly see his father, mother, Bra, Goten and Goku sitting with serious faces in his own living room. With serious faces, but living, breathing, alive to the core of their being. It was almost enough to ignore the fact that Bra was too young, and that his mother still had her aqua hair reaching her shoulder blades, tied in a loose braid as  not to tickle her while she was working. 

Yet the worst was facing the younger versions of his best friend and himself, somehow. He did not know why the image of a seventeen year old Goten was so much clearer in his mind than that of an eleven year old Bra, but it simply was there. Facing himself was weird beyond belief. It was as if he was watching some old home video's of himself, remembering faintly how he thought at that age, how he reacted, yet at the same time completely different and alien to him. Looking in his own eyes was… unnerving, to say the least. He was glad that the other Trunks stayed with Goten for a bit, just to let him get used to the idea. And everyone else as well, naturally. 

What would it be like for them to be faced with certain doom, again? The situation he had presented to them was even bleaker than the one Future Trunks had told them about, almost two decades ago. The similarities with the first (the other?) future timeline were still nagging at him, but he figured it was not important right now. He was here now, and he had done all he could do for today. For now it would be wise to catch some shuteye. Sighing, he rolled over on his side, and doubled his efforts to get some sleep.

***

Bulma was half asleep when two icy cold hands suddenly slipped under her blankets and grabbed her waist, surprising her with the chill. "Thanks, Vegeta," she murmured sleepily. "Come in bed, so you can warm up a little."

A throaty chuckle and a cold body pressing against hers announced that it was indeed her husband sneaking into her bed. "You're nice and warm," he commented contently.

"You're not," Bulma pointed out, but snuggled against him anyway. "Have you been sitting outside all that time?" That idiot. Even though the spring air was warming up, the nights were far too cold to sit outside in a tank top and shorts. 

"I have been training, and I had to cool off," he shrugged. He was warming up quickly, Bulma noted. Which was a good thing, because she hated to be cold in her own bed.

"It's been a weird day." It was almost a reply on what he meant; he had gone training not because his workout of the day had been interrupted, but to order his thoughts and to work off the negative emotions that had been plaguing him since Future Trunks had entered their timeline. Bulma could feel it faintly; it was eating at him as it was eating at her. The image their future son had sketched was so horrible that it left her disturbed and faintly nauseated all day. She had not felt like this since Buu's arrival, and she hated every second of it. "I don't like this one bit."

"Me neither," Vegeta admitted gruffly. "I like the idea of a challenge, but what the future brat told us no one will survive the encounter. Especially that mind block of them keeps bothering me."

Faintly surprised he was thinking aloud, Bulma laid her head on his chest and asked: "I saw you hammering on that fact, yet isn't it more important to check where they come from and what they want out here?" She paused for a moment. The fact that those monsters had not even told them what was happening, no announcement at all, and slaughtered all those millions of people seemed somehow… unethical to her. It was unfair, so useless to die and not even know what for. 

"They obviously want our death. I don't care why," Vegeta blazed.

"I think it's really important though. If we know their reasons, we might know something about them that will be crucial for their defeat," she countered, her fingers trailing lightly over his stomach. 

He sighed and glared at the ceiling. "I know that. Their weakness will be their minds, I guess. It will take the edge off them. Trunks seems a capable mental communicator. I cannot believe I never noticed that before… We should train."

"Physically or mentally?"

"Both. Especially the latter."

"If you do not mind, I'd like to do research on them. The Silver Terror, I mean."

"Why are you asking my permission?"

"I was toying with the idea of going into space, ask around for some details."

He jerked up in bed, causing her to bounce off him. "What a preposterous idea, woman! You have no idea what's going on up there!"

"That's what I'd need you for. You know your way around in Frieza's former empire."

"Out of the question," he said coldly. His whole body seemed to freeze up in anger.

"Relax, Vegeta, we'll talk about this later."

"Like hell we will."

She smiled in the dark and snuggled against him, acting on a sudden urge to be close to him. "I know better things to do right now."

Vegeta chuckled and kissed her. "Now you're talking."

***

Pale moonlight seeping through the curtains illuminated Goten's room softly. 

Goten was sitting up in his blankets with his back against the wall, frowning on the sleeping form of his best friend. Trunks was sweating and making whimpering sounds, constantly trashing around on his stretcher. He had never been a quiet sleeper, Goten knew, but it was obvious that his friend was having a hard time tonight. He was having nightmares; stress and tension seemed to radiate around him.   
Goten wondered whether he should wake Trunks up, but he figured that in that case Trunks wouldn't be able to sleep tonight anymore. It was a small miracle he had fallen asleep in the first place actually; Goten felt less disturbed than Trunks must be, and he was unable to sleep at all. A quick glance at the digital clock next to his bed told him it was after 3 am: far past bedtime, his mother would say. As if he cared; sleeping might be worse than waking... he wasn't exactly looking forward to nightmares. 

He sighed, trying to process what had happened today for what must be the millionth time. His mind returned to the point of the telepathy Vegeta had talked about: the intuitive reaching for other minds, the exchange of feelings. Could he do that, too?

Tentatively, he tried to reach out to Trunks, whose face was damp with sweat. At least, Goten hoped so; the dampness might also have been caused by tears. Kami, he hoped not. He tried to touch Trunks, his thoughts and compassion reaching out to his friend. If only he could console him and make him sleep more peaceful…

It lasted only a heartbeat. 

Flashes of blood and failure and pain crashed over him, as if he was dunked into a pool of ice cold water. Flinching, Goten knew this was Trunks' nightmare. Kami, he knew Trunks had a vivid imagination, and that the story that his future counterpart had told him was horrid, but this… He tried to be steady and warm, and ultimately 'there' for Trunks.

_I'm here for you Trunks, you won't fail, you're the best. We won't die. Don't worry, I am here. It will be alright. _

The images snapped out of his reach, and Goten sighed half in relief, half in frustration. That had certainly not been a pleasant experience, yet he had been able to touch Trunks' mind, like Vegeta had deemed possible. He was so happy with his accomplishment that it took a while before he noticed that Trunks' breathing had evened, and his body had relaxed. 

His friend was sleeping fitfully now, and more at peace than Goten had seen him in a while. It made him so happy he wanted to pounce upon Trunks and make him share in his happiness, but that probably wouldn't be smart.  
Instead, he lay down in bed and tried to relax. Maybe he would be able to sleep a little before they had to go to school. He felt a lot better now. 

*** 

Goku held the warm, sleeping body of his wife in his arms and refused to let go of her. ChiChi was lying with her head on his chest, her arm draped over his stomach. She was sleeping quietly and warm against him. He held her tightly, and tried to concentrate on only that, to block out any somber thoughts.

She had noticed his solemn behavior of course, and he had told her something about what happened today. She had been really sweet to him; hugging him every chance she got. Their lovemaking had been tender and full of love, and now she had fallen asleep in his arms. Kami, he loved her. If it really came down to it, she was always there for him. The idea of her death unnerved him more than he could ever say; she seemed so immortal, so real and steady in a world where everything changed.

He rose a little and kissed her dark hair. She smelt of rosemary and sweetness, and he breathed in deeply the scent of love and life. 

He would take care of the problem, he promised her silently. They would save the day. They always did…didn't they? 

***

Bra was sleeping the deep sleep of children, lying on her side, covers half on the ground. She had probably kicked them away in her sleep; her room was always too warm for her taste when she wanted to sleep. Aqua-colored hair covered her face and most of her oversized unicorn t-shirt. She looked very peaceful and extremely sweet, every parent's dream.

Only upon closer inspection an observer would see the puffiness of her cheeks and the reddish lines around her eyes that indicated weeping. 

Even little Bra had not remained unaffected by her future brother's story. She had snuggled against him to calm him down, but his inner pain had touched her deeply. She had cried softly because her future brother was staring at the ceiling in the next room, brooding, tossing, turning. She did not understand everything that was going on, but she understood enough that there was trouble, accepting promptly that there were two versions of her brother now and that both of them were in pain. And she hated to see that.

Eventually she had fallen asleep, sleeping that deep sleep that only children that are really tired can obtain. 

***

Tomorrow they would make plans and try and save the future… but tonight was saved for reflection and mourning. At dawn, they would grind their teeth and give it their best... they would begin their work and do what they did best: saving the world. 

Until that time, they would be silently processing the new information and allowing themselves to be scared… very possibly for the last time in a long period of time. 

_A/N: Before we go on, I'd like to thank Sango for her beta-reading. She helped me catch a lot of stupid mistakes that non-english natives tend to make when they're writing in English. She had to tell me that the expression: 'to look as if you see water burning' does not exist in English, like it does in Dutch. It means that one is looking around with utter astonishment. Thanks, Sango! _

_~Lanfir Leah_


	7. Decisions

**Chapter Six: Decisions and Leavetakings**

She was like an angel on a spring afternoon. Sunlight set her golden hair aflame, her bright blue eyes were deeper than the sky, and her smile… sweeter than anything he had ever seen before. So innocent and beautiful. She was still so young… at age eleven, she still had a little of that childish chubbiness in her face, yet her body was already showing the promises of the beautiful young woman she'd grow into. Marron did not know he was looking at her; she was smiling at his younger counterpart. And even though it was tearing his soul into pieces, he liked to keep it that way.

His heart was yearning for her. It was all he could do to keep from hugging her, and kissing her. It should have been enough to see her alive and breathing, but it wasn't. Of course it wasn't. 

This young girl was not his love, though. He needed to remember that. She was destined to share a kiss with his younger counterpart and die a horrible death. Seeing her here in the sunlight made that seem very unreal. 

Although flashes of the past (~_rain and blood and pain, so much pain, please make it stop marron why did you not listen to me why aren't you still alive I love you so much…_~) kept pestering him on a frequent basis, he fought back by trying to focus on the upcoming fight. _Focus. Clear your mind. We won't let history repeat itself. He would do this… duty and love had kept him alive and sane so far, they would hold out a little longer._

"Are you ready to go, Trunks?" Bulma's voice intruded his thoughts. 

He looked at her standing next to him and smiled. She was trying so hard to make him feel comfortable and at ease, he could not help feeling absurdly grateful. Smiling for her was the least he could do. For the past weeks, she had basically ensured his sanity: she was always there for him with a smile and a listening ear, a hug and some advice.

He was very glad she would join them on their trip. He had heard her argue about it with Vegeta; the Saiya-jin Prince had not wanted her to come along but she had argued that the ship needed a technician, and she had survived Namek as well, thank you very much! They had not spoken to each other for a few days, the atmosphere in Capsule Corp turning colder than the North Pole, but Bulma had waved it away with a smile. "He will give in, do not worry."

Vegeta had given in eventually indeed, although his mood was extremely dark the past few days. He did not like Bulma's idea at all, but the practical sides of the idea had made him admit she was right. They would roam Frieza's old empire for clues to the Silver Terror, while in the meantime making good use of the Gravity Room and training extensively, both in mind in spirit. The fact that they were in space would keep them focused, since the distractions on Earth would not be bothering them. 

Vegeta had grunted he never let _anything distract him, but Bulma had countered the others did, and that they needed him for the trip. 'Know thy enemy' she had thrown at his feet, and in the end that had been his defeat. Vegeta always prided himself in knowing the weaknesses of his enemies (and taunting them with it), and he needed this information. _

Trunks was grateful that he wouldn't have to face Marron while in space. She would not join them on this journey, because it was unnecessary for her to come. While she was training to be a martial artist like her parents and doing extremely well, she was nowhere near the level of the Saiya-jins.

"Truuuuuuunks!" a young voice screeched. With an instinct that was as old as he remembered, he extended his arms and caught his young sister in a hug. It had been years since he had hugged his sister at all, yet the feeling of his arms around him felt oddly familiar. As if no time had passed at all… as if he were home. "What is it, Bra?" He said warmly, burying his face in his sister's hair. She smelled nice. 

"Trunks, you tell them not to leave me alone! I want to come into space!" 

"I don't think that's smart, little one," he answered, putting her down on the grass again. "If Father and Mother say it's too dangerous, then you should listen to them and stay with Grandma and Granddad."

"But Daddy says I am a princess. I have a right to come!" 

"I know I'd be happy to have you here," he said thruthfully, "but I'm not one to make decisions here."

"To be honest, I'd rather take us with her, too," Bulma piped up next to him. "I'd hate to leave her alone without her family for an extended period of time." She frowned and looked intently at her daughter for a while. "I'll go talk to Vegeta."

Bra gave Trunks a jubilant look and hugged him once again. "I think I can come." Her eyes sparkled mischievously. It once again reminded him how he missed his own sister, and how easy it was to project all his affection for his sister at this younger girl. After all, they were the same, weren't they? Trunks remained silent for a bit, and sat down on the stairs leading to the spaceship. Bra sat down at his feet, her head resting contently on his knees. They observed the farewell party quietly, until Bra suddenly said: "Marron is pretty, isn't she."

"Yes, she is," he admitted, before realizing what he had said.

"You must miss your Marron," Bra mused. "Were you in love?"

He nodded mutely, and thankfully accepted the hug from his sister. Sometimes, he thought, Bra understood too much of the world around her. She had always been premature and extremely intelligent, but sometimes her insights were unsettling, to say the least. "Thank you, Bra," he sighed.

His sister responded with a tighter hug.

He really hoped Vegeta would let her come along.

***

Marron was having the greatest time with Goten and Trunks. She had pleaded with her father and mother if she could come, even if, as they had said, it was actually an adult party. Marron had protested that this would be the last time she'd see Trunks and Goten before they'd leave for space, and that she really wanted to have the chance to say her goodbyes. Eventually her father had taken her along. She was really happy her father had changed her mother's opinion and they had given their permission, otherwise she wouldn't be here in the sun, laughing at Goten!

Goten was secretly spiking the punch with something that looked like very strong alcohol, you see, and Marron and Trunks were supposed to cover for him. They were doing a lousy job of it, though, because they were too busy collapsing into an untidy heap of laughter. 

"What's going on here?" an accusing voice asked behind them. Goten's mother!

Marron and Trunks spun around as one and immediately tried to put up their most innocent faces, while Goten was mostly busy trying to get rid of the empty bottle.

"Nothing!" Marron chirped innocently, smiling her sweetest smile. 

"Yeah, nothing at all," Trunks and Goten added in unison. They were also coloring similar shades of crimson. 

_Boys_! Marron laughed inwardly, and took care of business, telling Chi-Chi how Trunks had just told them a funny joke. Goten's mother seemed to be satisfied with that, thankfully. She turned away to talk to Gohan, which was a good thing, Marron decided, because her friends looked like they were more than ready to explode with laughter and shame.

"Thanks Marron!" laughed Trunks, touching her shoulder. "You really saved our ass there."

"No problem," she blushed, melting inwardly. Trunks was so wonderful! He had the most gorgeous blue eyes, and he was so smart and strong! She was really honored he wanted to hang out with her.

Goten laughed, too, and he gave her a playful poke. "Yeah Marron, as a reward you can take the first sip of the punch!"

"Yeah right! What if I fall over? I've never had alcohol before!" As she half-turned to return that poke to Goten, she suddenly locked eyes with another pair of blue eyes. It caused her immediately to fall silent. It was the other Trunks, the older one from the future. Bra was holding him in a sisterly embrace (she had told Marron that her future brother had seen a lot of terrible things, and that he needed lots of hugs and understanding), and looked at her too.

For one moment, Marron almost understood what was going on… but then the moment ended, and Goten had changed the subject, daring Trunks to drink the punch. And so the eye contact broke, and the painful moment shattered… but this was not something she'd forget easily. There was something with that future Trunks no one had told her about.

She supposed she should ask him that one day. Maybe after they returned from the space trip? Somehow, she was afraid of the answer.

***

The day was hesitantly giving in to the night. As the sun was setting, Bulma found herself lighting candles on some of the picnic tables. The cheery mood of the party had dampened a bit; her friends were sitting in small groups, talking softly among themselves, creating some memories to remember for when the space travelers would be gone. And they would be gone for a long time. It all depended on how things went out there, but they'd probably be gone for a year or something.

She'd miss everyone when they would be in space, Bulma mused, looking at her friends all scattered throughout the garden. Of course, all the Saiya-jins were coming. Videl had wanted to come, too, but Gohan had quickly taken her aside and Bulma had seen his worried looks. He had talked long and intensely, and in the end Videl had resigned. She had told Bulma that she had to stay home for Pan, but she had not been happy about it at all. She hated to be home alone with a child. Bulma had advised her to move in with Chi-Chi for that time, and the young woman had taken a liking to that idea. This way, neither of them would be lonely. 

Bulma was glad she would be taking her own children with her on the trip. It had been so long that she had gone out on an adventure; she was all excited about it. She looked at her daughter, who was sitting under one of the picnic tables with Pan, playing with some shimmery and brightly colored marbles. Vegeta hadn't wanted to take her along at first, but Bulma had insisted. Besides the fact that she didn't want to leave her little girl all home alone with her grandparents (sweet as they might be) because she might miss her, Bra also seemed to do wonders for Future Trunks' state of being. It was as if Bra was soothing his pain with merely her presence. Strangely enough, Vegeta seemed to have noticed the same thing. He grumbled that if Future Trunks was going to do mental training, he was going to need all the soothing he could get. He also added a remark about weaklings soon after, but somehow it sounded halfheartedly. Bulma had been wise enough not to comment on it, and kept her ideas to herself. 

Mental training… yes, things were going to be interesting in the spaceship. Not only were the Saiya-jin warriors going to spar and train, but Piccolo, who would join the travellers, was going to introduce them into some deeper aspects of meditation and mental training. This would probably the first time that the Saiya-jin warriors were going to train as a group, learning from each other, sparring with each other. All old grieves and battles aside, Bulma noticed that some true respect was growing the past few years between the warriors. _Seems like we're all growing older and wiser.__ Maybe we've really grown up_, she thought with a smile.

Although, one look at her son, Goten and Marron, who were drunk on their own spiked punch and desperately trying to hide it from their parents, seemed to contradict that idea. Bulma knew what they were doing, of course. The bottle of rum had come out of her own collection; she had noticed it being stolen earlier this morning. She'd let Trunks have his fun now, and would get him later. Maybe she'd play really loud music in the morning… or maybe do something with really bright light? He'd learn… he'd notice her ignoring of the matter, and she would not offer him any relief on his headache. Oh well, it was a good day to get tipsy for the first time. Maybe he was a little young, but he was at home where she could keep an eye on him.

She smiled. Starting off a journey into space with a hangover would probably be just what Trunks needed to keep away from alcohol until he was of legal age. 

***

"We're going into space, we're going into space!" Bra sing-songed, bouncing around the controlroom. It was 10 am and one by one the travelers arrived, bringing their luggage, and sitting down on the chairs that Bulma had reserved for them. It would be quite the group that would depart, so Bra had already been bouncing for quite a while, annoying the crap out of everyone who was taking care of business before they could leave.

She jumped upon Piccolo's lap and chirped to him: "Aren't you happy?" 

The Namek just glared at her and grumbled: "Sit down, squirt, otherwise you'll be so tired that you sleep through the take-off."

"Why are you sitting so quietly all the time?" she inquired.

"I'm meditating."

"What's that?"

Piccolo was just about to explain when the Sons announced themselves cheerily.

Bulma greeted them with a sense of relief in her voice. "Hello boys. Now that you're here, we're ready to leave."

_At last…_


	8. Destruction

_My emotional outlet_

_Is consuming the better part of me_

_And apart from the wrong words_

_A tortured cry is making me see_

~ The Gathering, 'Marooned'

**Destruction**

"Again?!" The shriek bounced off the plated walls of the bridge. Bulma didn't even notice, she was too busy adding curses to her outburst. Frantically, she ran a hand through her aqua bangs and read the reports on her screen once more. "Dammit, dammit, dammit," she cursed. "No mistake, it's true..." She rummaged through a stack of papers and found Vegeta's list of inhabited planets. He had added that he had no idea which planets had survived the chaos that had ensued in the galaxy after the fall of the Cold Empire, but her current data did not stroke at all with any scenario they had thought of. Maybe it was really true? Maybe her suspicions were not so dumbfounded after all? "No… not again," she whispered, her voice breathy. She was right. It was one of the planets on Vegeta's list. And all that was left of it was a cold, silent planet, with no life readings of creatures bigger than the palm of her hand. Again. This was the ninth planet she had discovered in this particular state of being.

She had wanted to ignore it before, had told herself it could be coincidence, but it was not. She could not deceive herself anymore. The positive thing she could think of right now was the fact that they were far from the space quadrant where Earth was situated. This part of the former Cold Empire was dead. It had been completely and utterly destroyed. This could not have been caused by any war – it had been total annihilation. 

She had to check with Future Trunks.

Landing a well-placed kick against the wall, she left the bridge and entered the hallway to Trunks' room he shared with Bra. Bulma shivered, and tried to push the feeling of foreboding doom far away. Sometimes she wished she did not have such a vivid imagination, and this was one of these moments. Images Trunks had described of the ending of the world, images of the desolate planet they had just passed, images and flashes of a possible future were irking her to no end. The pressure of knowing the world is going to end unless you do something about it was making it hard to breathe. What if she failed? What if they failed?

_No! Don't even go there! We changed the future once, and we will do it again! We're already changing it!_ she scolded herself as she opened the door. 

Trunks was present, fortunately. He was sitting on his bunk, his back against the wall, his eyes closed. His presence in the room was so overwhelming that it took her a few moments before she noticed that Bra was there too. Her daughter was lying on the floor, totally caught up in a book she was reading. She looked up when Bulma made a sound, and jumped up happily, hurrying over to her mother. Bra whispered urgently: "Trunks is doing some mind tricks Piccolo teached him, mum, can you feel it?"

"It's taught, sweetie. Not teached," she corrected absently. "And yes, I can feel it. Can I disturb him?"

Before Bra could answer, Trunks opened his eyes. "Yes, it's alright. What's up?" 

Those haunted blue eyes... It again struck her how he kept looking worse the longer they were on the spaceship. It had been almost four months now, and her future son looked like he died a year ago. Oh, his body was in top shape, no question about it. He trained extensively these days, his physical training as intense as his mental one. Sometimes she almost felt the heavy telepathic communication in the spaceship. It gave her the willies, but she'd rather die than admit she felt left out (also because her young daughter was turning out to be as able a telepath as her past and future brothers). His body was as fine as it had ever been, every young woman's dream, but the way his lavender hair hung in his eyes, lifeless, the lines around his mouth, the feverish sparkle in his blue eyes, it was just wrong. The sparkles of energy that surrounded her younger son were simply gone. It looked to her that part of him had simply died inside. Her heart bled every time she thought of him. 

"Could you come over to the bridge, Trunks? I want you to acknowledge something for me."

"Sure," he nodded, rising from the bed. "What can I do for you?" 

***

_…-It was there, inside of him. _

_It was jittery, filling him to the brink with wild emotions, using axes and spears, trying to fight itself out of the cage he created for it. It kept sawing and hacking its way out, up until the point that Trunks was afraid to even sneeze. Anything could set him off, he felt like a walking stick of dynamite, wary of sparks around him._

_At night, the cage weakened and melted, letting the feelings flow out to torment him. _

_He barely slept because of it, waking himself with the echoes of his own screams or the wetness of his pillow. Eventually he barely slept at all, afraid for the monster in the cage. He did not dare to let it out._

_They knew, probably, but Vegeta kept expecting the best out of him, and Piccolo grew impatient with his mental instability. They still wanted him to perform. _

_He was impatient, too. Nervous, mostly, as if he were walking on hot coals. Shards of glass, maybe. Sometimes he wanted to scream, power up and fill himself with ki until he would explode. He craved release, but inside the spaceship he was not allowed to give into those feelings. Which put him even more on edge-... _

*** 

"So it's true," he heard himself say, his voice amazingly devoid of any emotion. He felt Bulma looking at him with blue eyes that might have been frightened. She was probably checking if he would break down. 

"What is it, mom?" His younger counterpart was trying to peek over his shoulder. Where did the boy come from? He had not felt him coming. And why did he feel so strangely detached? Where was the rest? And why did this happen?

His past mother wouldn't see him crack. He hid everything deep down inside, in the cage. He had to. If she'd know how he felt, she'd probably freak. He supposed he was in denial right now; he felt as if he were dreaming, wrapped in cotton, floating two feet above the floor. Unreal. Detached.

Yet he had to… keep it inside. 

And he had to focus. He had not noticed his younger counterpart entering. Neither had he seen or felt Goten. This was not good. He had to focus. 

_Planet! Silver Terror! Stay awake!_

"It's happening."

***

_…-Sometimes it was so bad he didn't know where to crawl._

_Sometimes it was so bad he curled up inside a corner and sobbed desperately._

_Sometimes it was so bad he let Vegeta beat him up so badly he lost consciousness for a period of time, just to find peace for a moment-…_

***

"Those silver guys have been here?" Goten asked incredulously. Sometimes Bulma was surprised how remarkably fast the mind of the youngest Son could be in crisis situations, while he usually appeared rather dense. She supposed he took after his father. "They killed all those people?"

Bulma gave a slight nod as answer, not taking her eyes of Future Trunks. Maybe she should have checked with Vegeta first and broke the news more carefully to him. Or maybe she shouldn't have told him at all. Although there would probably break it to him in any easier way. He'd take it personally anyhow. He'd hurt over it. In his current state, everything hurt him. And he would have found out eventually. Kami, how she wished she could spare him. Poor, poor boy. 

Future Trunks produced a choking sound in his throat before he spoke up. It was short, and hardly understandable, but she knew what he meant. "How many planets?" 

She did not want to say it. "This is the ninth planet I have found."

***

_-…And all the time, it was there. Deep down inside._

_Jitter, jitter._

_Kami, he wanted rest. He wanted out. _

_But most of all, he wanted RELEASE…_

_He knew it would not come._

_It would never come. _

_All that would come was blood, pain, and insanity._

_And all that was there were bodies of his loved ones, piling up, their blood spilling over his feet as he would cry for them The images. The agony. _

_All that would come was battle._

_Battle__… and destruction…_

*** 

In the end it was Bra's weeping that kept him from destroying the whole bridge in his white-hot rage. He had hardly noticed he was doing it. 

Kami, they would pay. 


	9. Life On Board

**Chapter Eight: Life on Board**

Life had settled into a quiet sort of routine in the past months. The days were filled with research for Bulma and with training for everyone else on the ship. The training was going extremely well. Piccolo had done amazing work with the mental training lately; the fruits of the training creeped Bulma out to no end. Half of the conversations during meals were silent now, and she really had to work and guess to understand what everyone was saying. Or thinking. Whatever. Besides the fact that she felt left out, it was extremely frustrating; the air seemed alive with unspoken communication. Sometimes she was sure she picked up their silent voices, but she never knew if it just was her intuition and her long years of being around thesepeople that made her predict what they were going to say. She had been able to predict - or hear - more and more. 

Vegeta found her irritation rather amusing, and teased her frequently with it. He could be such an ass! Bulma found herself getting ticked off by the whole situation. Being in the cramped spaceship for such a long time was really getting on her nerves; after all these years she couldn't live without Vegeta, and she loved her children and friends, but please, definitely not for 24/7 without an outside world to flee into! She began to crave shopping sprees and sitting outside in the sunlight. She missed her lab. She missed her tools. She missed her wardrobe. She even missed her parents.

And Kami, she HATED being a test subject for manipulation mind games, she thought vehemently, toweling herself dry after an early morning shower. Piccolo had ordered the young halflings to try and manipulate their mother's will for practice. Bulma's protests had been largely ignored, save for some comments that this was important and that she had the strongest will they knew without any mind shields. So she was the only person they could test their abilities on. 

_And don't worry, her young son had assured her, azure eyes sparkling with mischief, we won't do anything harmful. __You know I never would!_

_Very funny, Trunks, Bulma thought, glancing at the clock in the bathroom. It cheerfully announced that it was 4 am at Earth right now__.  Nothing harmful, eh? I'm rather sure that showering at such an ungodly hour was not MY idea!_

Pissed off to no end, she stomped through the hallway, slamming the bathroom door behind her. No way was she going to sleep anymore tonight. Oh well, she had been having a bad night anyway. Goku and Vegeta were off-ship, exploring some planet they were hovering over. Bulma had discovered that this planet still had some ki-readings that seemed to indicate intelligent life. Vegeta had confirmed this; this planet had been one of the richer trading nations during Freeza's rule. Well, there was not much left of that now. There was still life down there, but it was scarce. The inhabitants of this planet must have hid themselves well during the assault, Bulma supposed. Good for them... or not?

They had explored multiple planets now, and every time the two Saiya-jin left the ship Bulma nearly drove herself mad with anticipation and boredom during the long wait for their return. What stories would they return with, this time?

Still irritated, Bulma made herself a cup of tea and waited for the sign from the two Saiya-jin indicating that they would want to board again. It was going to be a long night.

***

Sparring filled all of their lives right now. Honestly enough, there was not much else they could do between planets, and Trunks happily immersed himself in it. He had been training vigorously lately. 

Kick, punch, spin, smack. Kick, block, block, block.

_"We'll sing the deathsong, kids..." Trunks muttered, dodging a particular blow that would have knocked him unconscious if it would have connected, __"'cause we got no... future..." _

Somersault. He loved the feeling of somersaulting. It had been one of the things that had made him want to learn to fly when he was a kid. It was one of his father's favorite moves during battle, he knew; fighting his father always involved speed, dazzling movements, quick turns and loops and spins. Goku was an awesome fighter, too, but he relied more on hand-to-hand, the parrying and blocking, while Vegeta danced. He preferred sparring with his father, usually. It was all a matter of taste, he supposed. Or maybe a thing of heritage. He was not sure. And he did not care either. He wanted to concentrate on the fight and on the here and now. What did battle preferences matter anyway?

Spin, block. Dodge, kick. Block, punch, block.

_"And we hope that Heaven's true..."_

"Would you please stop singing," Vegeta inquired, never even altering his speed or wavering his defenses. "You're annoying me."

"Try to break through," Trunks smirked. "If it annoys you, I'm not going to stop. Kiss it on the face and send it to God... We'll sing the deathsong, kids… Kick my ass for it, Vegeta. Come on, you can do it."

"Don't be so cocky, brat! His father's bellowed words were accompanied by severe blows that rendered his wrists senseless and tingly, even as he blocked. These were going to leave bruises. Trunks did not care. Maybe if he let himself be pounded, he wouldn't dream tonight. That would be nice for a change.

He refused to give up. _"Because we got... no... future..."_

"What is that song anyway?"

"I don't know. Something we picked up on the radio just before we left earth. I thought it was rather fitting."

Block, parry, hit. No time to rejoice, block, block. 

Mental intrusion, mental block.

"Oh, that was very low, Vegeta," Trunks hissed, breaking away from their engagement.

His anger just earned him a smirk. "Then quit thinking that way, brat. If you Don't change your attitude, I'll change it for you. You're a prince of the Saiya-jin, we're not going to lose to those silver twerps. Where's your pride?"

Encouragement from Vegeta? Kami, he must have been acting really depressed then.

Time for a subject change. He was not about to let his feelings show to Vegeta. The Saiya-jin prince would show no mercy, and Trunks did not think he would like a repetition of a fight like they had last week. Vegeta had kicked him down repeatedly, demanding that he'd get up and fight back verbally, but he had refused, lacking the strength. He needed stability right now, not fighting. "So what did you find on the planet anyway?"

"Let's take a break," Vegeta announced. He went straight to the place where they had stored their water and drank half of the bottle, the rest he poured over his head. "Didn't the woman tell you? Planet's called Pardun. Used to be a race of traders, low level, actually liked working for Freeza. It made them rich. They were one of the first against the wall when the Cold Empire fell." He smirked. "Snotty bastards, they got what they deserved. Anyway, they said a lot of things. Most of it was bullshit. They believed the silver guys to be magical or something. Or that their armor was magical. Kakarot did most of the talking, since I was having a hard time not to laugh into their faces, or blast them, or both."

Trunks put down his own bottle of water. "Magical?"

"Yes, something like that." The Saiya-jin prince sat down and leaned against the wall comfortably. "The armor is magical. Once you would put it on, you would never be able to take it off again, and it would change you into a merciless killer, or, as they called it, the perfect war machine. You'd be invincible, and you would get whatever revenge you wanted, in exchange for your soul and your sanity. What a load of bullshit. However, we've heard similar stories from several planets now, and this is the best story we could make of it. Besides, ever since I saw the inside of Buu's stomach I think I can believe anything. We've heard the most exotic speculations on the Silver Terror, as you call them. Most of the people down there call them Angels of Death. A rather fitting name, I'd say." He looked a little amused and picked up a second bottle. "But for more details, you'll have to ask the woman. She fancies herself in charge of the intelligence around here after all." He took a few gulps, then looked at Trunks again. "Up for another round, brat?"

"Anytime."

***

"Hello Bulma, what are you working on?"

Bulma turned away from her terminal and smiled at Gohan, who had just entered the bridge. He looked exhausted and bruised, but still wide awake and alert. He also smelled nice, she noticed. He had probably just taken a shower after sparring.

"Oh, some speculation on the stories we've heard about the Silver Terror. It's just something to pass time between planets, really. How are you doing, Gohan?"

"Sick and tired of sparring right now, actually," he confessed. "I hoped I could sit down with you and help you a little for the upcoming days. I need a break from the mental and physical training, or I'll go crazy."

"Of course you can, I could use another mind looking at my crazy theories. I can imagine you want to take it easy for a bit, you boys have been pushing yourself to the limit. However, don't expect me to go easy on this research. It's all crazy speculation I suppose, but I'm very serious about it."

"Naturally," He waved her comment away and sat down next to her, turning the chair to the terminal. "I could use some real thinking and speculating right now actually. So, show me what you're working on."

Bulma rose and walked over to the coffeemaker. "Coffee?" when he nodded, she pushed some buttons and continued: "Well, the whole idea of the armor, from what we've heard, is that it's supposed to block any kind of physical and mental contact to the person inside. That's why they seem so invincible, it's hard to really reach out and touch them, in any way possible. It's simply almost impenetrable to anything. I've been calculating some diagrams on how such a substance should work, that's what you're looking at right now."

Gohan observed the diagrams and calculations and frowned. "It's all very sketchy," he said carefully, clearly not wanting to offend her. "Where did you find this information?"

"I built the ideas from scratch and from what little information we have," she sighed, handing him a cup of coffee. "But as you see here, there's some sense in this. From what we've heard from Trunks, the physical shield is stronger than the mental one. That is probably because physical attacks are much more common than mental ones.

It is possible to break through, we know that, too."

Gohan leaned back in his chair, his eyes distant. "It makes me think of the material that broke the Z Sword. What was it called again? Katcheen or something? The Supreme Kai claimed it was the most durable substance in the universe."

"Really? Tell me more about it!" Immediately her fingers found the keyboard, starting search and trace programs. She had her own programs, of course, and Vegeta had given her some links and passwords to intergalactic information networks that could be accessed through nearby planets. Most of the networks had gone down over the past decade, but it had a few dazzling databases and connections that surpassed the Internet on Earth by far. It didn't take long before information began to fill up her screen, even as Gohan was still describing what he knew about the material.

Energetically, she started to read, hoping they had caught onto something.

***

"Come on, you can do it!" he heard his friend cheer over his own tensed screaming. Goten was drawing upon his own power, fighting his way deeper and deeper into himself, hoping to stumble over some yet untested power source. Dammit, Trunks had been able to go Super Saiya-jin level 2 months ago, what was keeping him? 

His father had offered that maybe he had to be angry to transform, but Goten doubted it. If that was so, his frustration would have triggered it weeks ago. Besides, he had become Super Saiya-jin during a simple spar with his mother, for crying out loud! A level further shouldn't be that much of a problem. He knew faintly what it was like to be Gotenks, with all that intense power at his fingertips, now only if he could just imagine that hard enough, maybe it would come... they needed it. If they could align their power at a higher level when they'd fuse, Gotenks' power would be unimaginable. It was so necessary, why wouldn't it come?

Maybe he should scare the crap out of himself by using his imagination and tell his mind that it was necessary to transform right now and force himself? Because it was his mind that was blocking him; he was strong enough and everyone knew it. And he... couldn't... stay... behind! As long as he could remember Trunks and he had always been roughly equal in power. He'd die if Trunks would surpass him that far. And he definitely did not want to be the weakest fighter, the idea simply freaked him out. He almost laughed out loud. When had the friendly competition between them changed into pride? And why was he so proud? He never used to care about it; Gotenks' power had always been enough for him. His own power had been enough for him in the past. But here he was, trying his best to prove he could do it. Not because of the horror that would plague the earth in a few years, but because he needed to prove himself.

And he would not have it! 

Screaming in frustration, all Goten felt was the need to explode. He needed to channel his feelings somehow, but it was inside of him and it simply would not come out. Come on! They needed him! They had to need him, otherwise he'd go nuts and he'd have taken off to space all for nothing! He had to let it OUT! He needed to break through, he needed to remember how it was to break into new power, he had it IN him, damn him... damn him... damn everything... he would...

And there it was. 

No explosion, just a shrill sound of energy crackling around him. His body tensed up and all it took was a simple opening. He just had to open himself to the power, and it all flooded inside of him. He did not need to let it out, but let it in. He had to surrender to it, that was all it took. 

Crackling and beaming with newfound power, Goten turned to his friend with a smirk on his face, and all he could think was: _Damn me, indeed._

***

 One look at the beaming faces of Bulma and Gohan was enough. Not even everyone was sitting at the dinner table yet, and they were shifting in their seats like little children, all excited with some news they wanted to share as soon as everyone had arrived.

Trunks looked up from the food that would probably taste like ashes in his mouth again, and proposed calmly: "So tell us your wonderful news, before you explode."

He caught an amused glance from Vegeta, but did not answer the look. Instead, he worried about how he was possibly going to eat all this. Bulma had made sure there was a healthy portion on his plate, but he was not hungry at all. Of course, this was a recurring phenomenon. Bulma had yelled several times at him already, he needed to eat well if he were training this extensively, because he was burning up energy like it was nothing. Of course Trunks was aware of that. He was just repulsed of the idea of eating ever since... ever since then. And if it made him feel light-headed and dizzy sometimes, so be it. 

Maybe he wouldn't have to eat with all this excitement tonight.

"We," Bulma announced, her blue eyes sparkling with pride and joy, "...are going to the planet Aranza."

"What is so special about that planet, woman? It's just a chunk of stone; the atmosphere burnt out during a biological war decades ago."

"It's the mines," Bulma explained to her husband with a patience that surprised them all. His gruff remark had done nothing to diminish her jubilant mood, obviously. "You see, Gohan told me something about what he thought was the strongest material in the universe, and I did some searches on it, which ultimately led me to another mineral that I'm fairly sure makes up the basics of the armor of the Silver Terror." A satisfied smile played around her lips. "And that's why we're going to Aranza. Too see if I'm right."

Trunks leaned back in his chair. "Say that you're right," he began slowly, "wouldn't it be very dangerous to journey there? I suppose that the Terror would be there, too."

"Well," Gohan cut in, laying down his spoon, "isn't that what we've been preparing for all along, then? We're still making progress, but I think that we should be able to take some samples and get out of there before all hell breaks loose."

It sounded as if they had put a lot of thought into this already, Trunks noted. Well, good for them. It might be dangerous, it might be not. "Of course, this whole journey is a gamble," he muttered sardonically. "Why not stake all of our lives to prove a theory?" "Isn't that a bit of a dark view on our mission, Trunks?" his past mother ventured. 

He shrugged and looked at his plate. "Whatever."

A green hand on his arm made him look up. "Hey kid, you've all worked miracles over the past months. I don't think that I can teach you much more about mental warfare, and physically a lot of barriers have been broken as well."

"Yup! Even I reached a new level," Goten added brightly.

Piccolo largely ignored the teenager, projecting his attention on Trunks. "We'll be as ready as we can be. We will be fine." 

Oh great, now he was getting reassurances from Piccolo, too! Why did everyone think he was so uncertain? He was just trying to be realistic! He had fought the Terror, not them! He was also the one who had lost everything, so why bother being careful and realistic? He could not afford to be naive and hopeful! The last battle he had fought had beaten those things rather effectively out of him.

Trunks sighed and continued to stare at his plate. 

"I think that if I could find what their awful armor is made of, I could really help you people in defeating those guys," his mother continued cheerfully. "So I think it's worth the gamble. What do you people think?"

Even before the first of the gathered warriors had agreed, Trunks felt the agreement hanging in the air between them. He also felt the unspoken question as they all turned to him for his decision. He felt forced to look up to them and forced his voice to sound as bright as his mother's: "Well, Aranza it is then."

_Author's Note: The lyrics are taken from Marilyn Manson's 'Deathsong', which I was listening to while writing this chapter. _

_Updates to this story will follow soon; now that Nanowrimo is over I have many high hopes to me writing a lot of words in a short period of time. If I can write 50,000 words in a month, then I can surely wrench out at least two more chapters before the end of the year, right? ;)_

_And, as always, kudos to Sango, my beta-reader! I assume that you've surely read her awesome stories yet. If not: here you go!_


	10. Dead Rock

**Chapter Nine: Dead Rock**

Aranza was as much the dead rock as Vegeta had deemed it to be, Trunks decided. The ground was cracked and dry and no water was to be found anywhere. Here and there ruins and dust littered the planet's surface, but they were scarce and they had mostly crumbled or vanished. The wisps of violet haze that trailed the night sky were all that was left of Aranza's once so breathable atmosphere. The atmosphere had been ignited and burnt out during a blood feud between powerful nations on the planet; governments uncaring or unknowing about what they were doing to their planet, or so Vegeta claimed. The idea intrigued Trunks immensely. Was honor really so important that they would use weapons on their enemies so powerful and dangerous that it could end up killing both parties? How insane did you have to be before you would decide to take such measures? Why would you do it? Of course, he did not know anything about Aranza's inhabitants and why they had chosen to annihilate themselves in that war (besides the little information that Vegeta had provided) but his mind kept musing and speculating as he breathed deeply into the oxygen device that Bulma had given him. 

His past mother was standing next to him, her colorful presence looking very much out of place in the desolate environment. Vegeta was trailing a little behind them, taking everything in. He had refused to let Bulma and Trunks explore the mines of Aranza all by themselves but did not make a secret of his disgust towards the mission. 

Using tracking devices, Bulma had managed to locate the supposed location of the mines. They had flown already for a while, Vegeta again insisting on carrying his mate, but Bulma had asked for solid ground under her feet for a bit, saying something about ruins of a city nearby. She was cursing under her breath about the shifty magnetic poles on the planet, focusing on her compass and frowning at the pieces of paper in her hand. "Damn pieces of crap," she uttered, and looked up. "Well then. The mines are supposed to be a little south from here if my compass isn't betraying me again," Bulma said, gesturing vaguely in the southern direction. "I estimate an half of an hour walk, unless one of you boys would be so sweet to carry me again?"

Vegeta grunted. "Anything that gets us out of here faster."

"Are you still planning on exploring the city?" Trunks asked.

"That's my intent. Depends a little on how everything goes; I need some information beyond the minerals that we can find here. We have oxygen for a little more than," she checked her watch, "five hours." 

Vegeta scooped her up and glared at her. "Stubborn bitch," he told her and gestured at Trunks to follow him. They arrived at their destination in less than a minute. The mines were largely underground and consisted of ink-black rock with silvery flecks. "That's our mines all right," Bulma commented with a satisfied grin on her face. 

"Then get the hell in, take what you want, and come out again." Vegeta turned their back to them, looking out over the rocky nothingness around them. "I'll keep watch. If there's anything..."

Bulma waved her hand dismissively. "...We'll call for you."

"Good."

Trunks took his flashlight out of his pocket and beckoned for his past mother to follow him. He was as concerned as his Vegeta was, but had chosen to swallow his anxiety and go into the cave with his mother. Maybe it would take his mind off his worries. He turned on the light and felt his jaw drop. This was unexpected! He expected caverns and darkness... not... "...the hell?"

"Looks like this mine has been quite the lucrative business," Bulma commented dryly, taking in the plated hallway. "It looks as if it's been deserted for quite a while now," she judged, looking at the dust gathered everywhere. The hallway took a few sharp turns, progressively descending deeper and deeper into the caverns. It took them a while, but eventually they reached some sort of control center. Trunks felt more than a little disturbed as he inspected the remains of the room. It was a high, domed room with a ceiling that must be fifty feet high. It also looked as if a battle had been fought here. There was a lot of broken equipment, half-molten steel and holes in the wall that indicated ki-blasts or some hi-tech blasters. One of the pillars had cracked and looked suspiciously as if it would crumble at the slightest touch. Not much seemed to have survived the fray that had taken place, but at a second glance he noticed that there were a few computers that might still work. 

It seemed only logical that within a minute Bulma was wiring the electricity to get one of the computers to work, and it surprised him even less that within another minute it was functioning properly. The computer sprang to life simultaneously with one of the two unbroken lamps in the ceiling. The control room bathed now in a clean white light. He had lived with his mother all his life, and he knew he himself was far more intelligent than the average person, but the sheer brilliance that his mother possessed never ceased to amaze him.

She seemed to be downloading information, he judged from an offhand look at the screen. Never mind, that was not his business now. He was supposed to guard her. He'd deal with the information later. He closed his eyes for a second and reached out with his ki. Nothing, besides the suppressed ki of his past father. Vegeta seemed impatient. Well, that was certainly nothing new. He was impatient too. He wanted to get out of here as soon as he could. 

Aranza seemed very desolate, but he was anxious that the Terror would return for whatever reason, and that they'd all be blasted into hell anyhow. Despite what Piccolo or Vegeta or Goku or who the hell else claimed, they were not ready to take on the Silver Terror. They were in space for a little under a year; there was no way that they'd even stand a chance. Of course they had all progressed, they'd mastered some techniques, boosted their ki levels, and now they thought it was all fine and dandy? Well, no. Not by far. 

He could understand that his mother wanted to study the armor of the Silver Terror; it could give them some valuable advantages over the killing machines. Or at least it would give them something to practice on. More importantly, they would get to know the perils that faced them. It would give the other warriors a bit of a reality check. Know thy enemy, right? 

He was gnashing his teeth again. Nasty habit, he should really stop doing it; it was something he picked up soon after... everything... had happened. He was not sure what it meant; maybe it was a sign of his anxiety and his frustration. Bulma berated him about it constantly. Like now.

"Trunks, we'll get some food as soon as we're back on the ship. Don't eat your own teeth in the meantime," she said absently. She did not even look at him, her fingers were busily dancing over the keyboard, and her eyes were still glued to the screen.  

He sighed and opened one of the numerous doors in the far end of the room. More plated hallways greeted him silently. This place was like a damn maze! 

"According to what I've found here," his mother's voice suddenly sounded behind him, "we're supposed to find some half-delved rough material down the hallway you're looking at right now."

Trunks shrugged. "Then let us get us some."

She came to stand next to him but did not move or speak. He did not even need to use one of the mental tricks Piccolo had taught him, he immediately knew something was wrong. He really knew his mother too well. "What is it?"

Bulma looked up at him with large, liquid blue eyes. "I know what killed this planet." Her lower lip trembled suspiciously. This was not good.  
"What?"

She looked away. "It was the people. The inhabitants of Aranza."

"We knew that," Trunks shrugged, entering the hallway. He walked away from her, because he already suspected the answer. He did not want to know. He could already guess the horrible truth of this blasted dead rock, he did not need his teary-eyed mother for that. And he did not want… to know. He just wanted to get that damn mineral and hightail out of here. 

"Wait, Trunks," his mother protested, running to keep up with his long strides. "It's so sad and so logical at the same time, you know." She sounded nervous. He refused to meet her eyes. The flashlight danced through the narrow hallway. When had it narrowed that much? Or was this one just not a main hallway, and therefore not that wide? And what did he care anyway?

Bulma chose to ignore his sullen silence and continued: "I haven't seen much, but what I've gathered of it is that the Terror was bred as a weapon for some war the Aranzians were fighting. A war between countries, it was. But when the Terror was unleashed, they pretty much destroyed everyone and everything, nothing or no one excluded. Much like Gero's androids would have in our world, really," she mused. "Anyway, the people of Aranza tried to fight them, but they failed miserably. I suppose that explains much of the destruction we've found."

And there it was. He had known all along deep down inside, he had seen the truth and he had refused to believe it. He had fucking known all along. He had not wanted to know, he had tried to trick himself into not suspecting or finding out, but here it finally was. He could not fool himself anymore.

It was another damn parallel. The final parallel, the final truth. His horrible theory was proved.

He thought he had shaken off his destiny by escaping into the past, but it seemed like it was true after all. When the future changed the first time and the Earth was not destroyed by androids because the Trunks from the future had prevented it all from occurring, Destiny and Life had joined their forces and tried to patch up their predestined future, by creating just another patch of indestructible androids set on destruction. 

It was almost funny. Trunks wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run in circles and tear his hair out. Instead, he just kept walking with those long strides and tried to cancel out his mother's voice. And naturally, it was to no avail. Maybe it was some morbid part of him that wanted to listen to this doom story, because damn him if he wasn't paying attention!

"The Aranzians knew they had made a fatal mistake," his mother continued, her breath a bit labored because she had to keep up with him, "and so they decided they'd do anything, everything to stop the suffering. They tried and utilized all kinds of horrible weapons and tactics, that they were destroying their planet bit by bit. They knew they were losing the war against the Terror and in the end they tried a weapon so dangerous and so powerful... it was all they could do now, it was the only possibility left. So they knew there was a big chance that they'd kill themselves with it as well, because the weapon was yet untested and unstable, but time was running out. It was all they could do. They knew the Silver Terror would not stop at Aranza, and they knew this was their only chance. So they used their weapon. I guess it was a nuclear one or it was a chemical one, causing a chain reaction... The blast that occurred was horrible, and it burnt up their atmosphere. It rendered Aranza to the dead rock we're walking on now, as far as it wasn't already, and… everyone died. Except the Silver Terror."

"Figures," Trunks spat. He could not bear to say anything more, as he was too busy controlling his anger and frustration. 

They walked on in silence.

***

"About time," Vegeta's irritated voice reached them as they exited the cavern. "I began to worry that I'd freeze my ass off out here."

It was indeed very cold out here, Trunks thought. Dark, too. The sun had set, now shining merrily on the other side of the dead planet, and because of the lack of atmosphere the air around hem had cooled off dramatically. He was glad he was wearing protective clothing. Of course he could stand the most extreme weather conditions, from scorching heat to piercing cold, but it never hurt to be comfortable, he supposed.

"I'm ready," Bulma said, holding up her case of capsules. "I got myself nice amounts of mineral, enough to study on." She smiled radiantly. 

"I'm glad you're so excited about it, woman," the Saiya-jin Prince drawled. "Now can we leave here before I die out of sheer boredom?"

"Whatever you want," she smiled at him, ignoring his jest. Playfully she extended her arms and waited to be picked up again. "Let's go to the ship, I've had enough of the Aranzian planetviews by now."

"And that while you've been in the caves all the time. You did not have to stare at it for three hours," Vegeta protested.

Bulma just laughed as they took off, back to the ship.

Trunks followed suit, silent and brooding. He did not understand how Bulma could remain so calm and lighthearted through all of this. Was it just a façade to mask her insecurity and her inner pain, like he was trying to mask his own inner turmoil, or did she really not see the things he saw? Had she truly not realized the parallels and the hopelessness of it all? Or was he just doing the old doomsday thinking again, and did she foresee a bright and beautiful future he thought was out of reach? Was he possibly missing something? 

He really did not want to be that negative. He never used to be a pessimist. Not before what happened in the future, anyway. Before all this, he had never really thought about the future; he took the things one day at a time, and never had anything to worry about. And that changed. It only took one reality check, one moment of disillusion as he stared at what was left of the girl he had kissed only minutes ago, and now he was unstable and pessimistic. Not that strange of course, considering the circumstances, but he did not want to be a liability. He did not want to teeter at the edge of an emotional breakdown. He desperately wanted to have hopes for the future, but things were looking bleak if he took said further future in account. 

Say that they would, by some miracle or extreme power-up or a streak of brilliance or luck – say that they would defeat the Silver Terror (that was already so mind-boggling that Trunks had a hard time concentrating on this particular scenario; it made him chuckle a little as he sped through the Aranzian sky after Vegeta and Bulma)... then the Earth wouldn't be destroyed by androids of whatever sort. Hurrah for this particular time. But then... would a different, stronger set of androids arise in a couple of years, and give it a go again because it was simply the Earth's destiny to be demolished, its people diminished? And would again everything be destroyed around him (or an alternate version of himself, like the younger Trunks in the spaceship right now, perhaps) and would he again take a time machine into an alternate past to fight the future? And would he win there, creating another timeline, endlessly looping time around itself and himself, thus trying to outsmart Destiny time after time and failing? Should he even dare to challenge Destiny like that if it would prove to be so utterly hopeless?

The paradox was horrible.

Trunks gnashed his teeth and tried not to believe in it. He could not afford to; it was too awful to be true. He had to believe in the light in Marron's eyes, in the beautiful twinkling sound of his little sisters delightful laughter, into the unspoken affection between his parents, in the quiet strength of the Son family – that's where he had to draw his strength from. Because all of those things were just as true as this… atrocity he was thinking of right now. 

Hope should be his strength, not fear and uncertainty. He needed all of his strength for this.

It was too late for Aranza, but there was still hope for Earth. Maybe he truly was the Earth's only hope. Maybe he would change the future forever so that Marron could grow up into the beautiful woman she deserved to become and smile at him sweetly, captivating all the goodness and the light of the world in that one smile. 

He had to believe in that.

_A/N: I fear another chapter before the end of the year will be a tough call, but I'm working on it. Merry Christmas everyone! _

_~ LL_


	11. Summer Evening

_Sweet darling you worry too much, my child_

_See the sadness in your eyes_

_You are not alone in life _

_Although you might think that you are _

_~ Within Temptation, 'Our Farewell'_

**Chapter Ten: Summer Evening**

There was a party going at Capsule Corporation. It was even audible out here, on the other side of the immense compound. Trunks did not feel very much like partying, so he had excused himself as quickly as he could and was spending the rest of the summer evening meditating. He was sitting with his back against the smooth wall, his legs in the lotus position, mind completely empty. Tendrils of thought sometimes trailed over the edges of his mind, but they never quite connected. Trunks loved this kind of meditation; the distant feeling of other thoughts of the rest of the world, the soft sensation of the breeze against his skin. Goku had wanted everyone to enjoy life as much as possible in this last year before the Silver Terror would come, but Trunks could not quite bring himself to immerse himself in fake cheeriness. He kept feeling the anticipation and the fear right below that cheery surface; it felt like hypocrisy to act that way.

"Why are you still training so hard?"

Even though he had known she was there, her voice still startled him. He was not sure whether she had just pulled him out of his concentration, or that it was because he recognized her voice. For one moment he remained in his meditation state, his eyes closed and his body relaxed, and then he braced himself. Turning around to face her was probably one of the hardest things he ever had to do. He had deliberately avoided him all those weeks since they had returned from space, and today she had finally found him. 

I suppose I should have known that she'd seek me out, he thought with vague feelings of regret. It was about time. 

Besides the fake cheeriness, he had not wanted to attend the party because she would be there. So much for that stealth technique; he should have left the vicinity of the building altogether. It had been a stupid move to stay here. Maybe he even partly wanted to see her somewhere deep down inside, he mused. Oh well, speculation did not matter anymore, he was looking at her right now.

"Hi Marron," he responded with a neutral voice that surprised him. "It's been a while. How have you been?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "Okay I guess. I missed everyone terribly. How did your training in space go?"

"We made some progress."

"That's nice," she smiled. Some late sunrays caught her hair and made it shine like molten gold. It made his throat tighten. The time that had passed since that fateful day had chafed the rough edges of the painful memories, but Marron had matured in the time he had spent in space. She was only a year younger than the girl he had kissed, and where he had been able to dismiss her as a young child time last time he saw her, it was a lot harder this time. 

"Won't you come with me to the party?" she asked.

"I'd rather not," he avoided that dark blue gaze, desperately trying to keep his mind blank. He would not give in to the pain, not this time. If only his memory wasn't so damn visual, if only he could banish those images…

"Why not?"

Of course she would ask that. He grinded his teeth and tried to think of an answer, but she answered the question all by herself. "Is it because of me?"

She caught him totally by surprise.

"I see I'm right…" she said softly, her blue eyes darkening with something that resembled sadness. "I'm sorry that my presence hurts you."

"Don't be," he said quickly. "It's a sweet pain."

She looked up at him in confusion, as he rose from the lush grass and came to stand with her in the sunlight. "Sweet?"

"It's wonderful to see you whole and alive," he whispered, damning himself with every word he spoke. "And I have missed you."

She seemed to be hesitating. Eager, too. She was obviously unsure what to do, but did not avert her eyes. She kept her gaze on him while she searched for words. "Did we…?"

He took her in his arms and embraced her tightly. "Yes, we did. I loved you. I still do."

Krillin had walked up to him and Goten and had asked if they had seen his daughter. "She's probably inside," Goten had answered, unwilling to leave the plate with delicious snacks. He was nibbling on a block of cheese, and did not even look up to the ex-monk, already contemplating what snack to consume next.

"Do you know where she is, Trunks?" Krillin had asked.

"I don't know," he had admitted. "I'll look for her."

"Thanks!"

And so Trunks had scurried off to search for his blond girlfriend. After he had searched through the whole gardens, he was about to give up and search inside, when he found her. She was in the last place he expected her to be… in his older counterpart's arms, whispering that she loved him. *Future* Trunks' arms.

Vision blurred by unexpected tears, he turned tail and fled. It seemed to him as if the crashing down of his whole world was thundering in his ears.

Marron hugged him tightly. He was so full of sadness, she did not know how to deal with it. She loved him, yes, she had always adored him. Or rather, his younger counterpart had been her idol – she had spent her whole life worshipping the ground he walked on. It hurt her to see him on pain, whatever future he was coming from.

It was just hard to decide what she would do with this sudden revelation; the girl that he loved was dead. She was basically the same person; yet different. And could she transfer her total crush on Trunks so easily to his future counterpart? Should she? He needed it so terribly, but she already knew that it would probably never be enough. 

"I love you too," she whispered sadly in the silence of their shared embrace. "I'm just really confused what I should do with it, because you and the boy I grew up with are not the same. I don't know what to say… you have my love, as a friend at least. I don't know about the rest. You're a beautiful person, really, but I fell in love with someone else… I need some time to figure this out." She pried herself loose from his arms and looked at his flawless face, and his fathomless deep eyes, crystal-clear like a winter sky. There was so much pain under the surface, she could almost see it. And he looked so sad. She'd like to kiss him to make him happy, but that would make matters only worse, she feared. So instead she pecked him on the cheek, as a friend.

"I wouldn't want to force you to anything," Future Trunks said softly.

"I know," she smiled. "I'm going back to the party. Will you come with me?"

He nodded, and took her arm. Somehow Marron felt as if she had won a battle, although she could not say what the fight had been about. It just felt good.

It wasn't until the end of the party that Marron realized that neither Trunks nor Goten were anywhere to be found among the party people.

"Are you alright?"

Trunks was sitting with his back to him, legs dangling over the edge of the cliff. Even from behind he looked defeated; his shoulders were slumped and his head was lowered. Goten just had the hardest time retrieving his friend. Because Trunks had repressed his ki, he had to visit all of Trunks' favorite places to find him. The sun had set by now, and the sky was coloring the same tint of lavender as Trunks' hair.

"I guess so," Trunks answered finally.

Goten sat down next to him and took in the marvelous view of the city below. "What's wrong?"

His friend shrugged. "I think she's in love with future Trunks. I saw them together."

For a moment, Goten contemplated a mental touch, but decided against it. It would probably be an intrusion on a moment like this, even when it was meant to be supporting.

There were a lot of other things he could do, but in the end he just settled down for his arm around his friend's shoulders and a companionable, understanding silence.

They sat there for a long time that summer evening. 

_A/N: And suddenly there was an update! I know, it scares me too! ^_^ _

_Sorry this is a short one; the chapter just needed to end at this point. There is more, but there was just this scene in my head and this image I wanted to sketch. _

_Next to come: the last months before the new attack. I suspect there'll be four more chapters before the end of this story – and those will be longer than this one. (I can't believe that I'm reaching the ending!) I also promise that they'll be here faster than this chapter. _

_Cheers, Lanfir Leah_


	12. Interlude: Last Year

**Interlude: Last Year**

_~And so, the last year started. _

_The Z Senshi all prepared for the final battle, each in his or her own way, but in the end all they could do was hope that it would be enough._

_Would it? Only time would tell…~_

_(8 months and counting)_

_You don't know what you have until it's gone,_ Trunks mused, sitting in his windowsill and watching the sunset. He had just returned home after a sparring vacation of a month. Now that Goten and he had both graduated high school, they had oceans of time. His mother was extremely lenient where it came to finding a college right now; with the end of the world close at hand, she had taken Goku's advice and let him enjoy himself as much as he wanted. 

And he had really needed to get out of the house. 

The first weeks after the party at Capsule Corp had been depressing and painful. He had gone out of his way to avoid Future Trunks and Marron both. He did not feel like dealing with them yet. It certainly wasn't the nicest way of finding out that you harbor warm feelings for someone. Jealousy is a green-eyed monster, they said, and that was definitely true in his case. He was so filled with jealousy that sometimes he thought he would burst. 

Goten had noticed and helped him through that first phase: he had taken Trunks on a sparring session in the mountains, where they hunted and sparred and did some serious talking. They would lie on their back and look at the stars, contemplating life, the universe, and everything… they'd muse on love, on battle and telepathy, and on the threat of the Silver Terror that was coming closer every day.

"It seems that the people on Earth are always living in the face of impending doom," Goten had remarked sardonically on one of those starlit evenings. Trunks had agreed with him, darkly muttering about doom and time and curses that seemed to be upon the Z Senshi. 

The evening had ended with the both of them ending up drunk, melancholically, and eventually with the mother of all hangovers. It was definitely one of the best nights Trunks had ever had, and he wouldn't trade it for the world. It would be a memory worth fighting for. 

*

_(6 months and counting) _

One of the things Marron really liked about the small island where she grew up was the climate. The remote location drove her bonkers sometimes, but at least the weather was always pretty. Even early in the morning it was already warm enough for an extended swim. She dove through the waves and swam for a while. When Future Trunks had told them about the threat of the Silver Terror, her mother had wanted to train her to fight (or at least to defend herself), but instead 18 had ended up scolding her teenage daughter for her bad condition. Two and a half years later Marron was in top condition because of the fighting and the exercise, but she had maintained the habit of going for a swim first thing in the morning. It was a wonderful opportunity to be alone and reflect on certain matters. 

Trunks, for example. The boy she grew up with was downright ignoring her for the past two months. At first she thought he was just busy with other things and tried not to take it personally, but she was definitely suspecting something now. They had been friends for as long as she could remember… he had been the one that had taught her to fly four years ago. He had told her about his first kiss with flushed cheeks, whispering she shouldn't tell anyone. They had shared so much together throughout their life – Marron had always worshipped the ground he walked on. Now that they were growing older, she had started to hope that maybe he would fall in love with her. He was starting to notice her, she had seen. He did still think that he was too old for her, but she had seen girls of her age together with guys his age before, so she had decided to give it time until he would turn around. After all, in the future timeline she and Trunks had ended up together, too, hadn't they?

On the other hand that was exactly her problem. Ever since the party, when she had hugged with Future Trunks, her friend was avoiding her. She wondered whether he had seen them together and made his own conclusions, but she couldn't remember seeing or hearing him. Of course, she had been rather occupied by Future Trunks.

And she had not really figured out what she felt for him, either. His need and his attention drew her like a moth to a flame. She felt a confused sort of love for him, but she did not know whether her feelings were sisterly or as a lover. It is so strange to deal with the future, scarred version of the boy you have worshipped your whole life. Especially if said young man expresses his love for you, while the boy you grew up with doesn't regard you more than a friend (yet). What are you supposed to feel in such a situation? Marron definitely didn't know.

She turned over on her back and floated aimlessly in the water for a while, looking up at the azure sky without really seeing it. A lone seagull cried out. It sounded desolate and lonely and made her cringe. 

She really needed to talk to Trunks soon. 

*

_(3 months and counting)_

Bulma squinted at her computer screen. Kami, she was tired… her eyes kept unfocusing and she was continuously hitting the wrong keys on the keyboard, but her caffeine-enhanced brain had finally reached a breakthrough. 

The millions of scans and simulations she had run on the metal had finally paid off – she was rather sure she had finally found a way to reproduce the amour. It made fatigue totally irrelevant. They had three months before the Silver Terror would grace them with their uninvited presence and she needed to have this done by then. It was cold in her lab, totally dark except for her desk light, but she was completely oblivious to it. Or rather, she chose to ignore it. It was all about priorities here. No matter that she was living on coffee and that she hardly saw her family these days. She would have plenty of time to see them after she had saved their lives, right? She just needed to-

"You're up late," Vegeta's breath tickled her neck all of a sudden.

Bulma shrieked and jerked upright. She twirled her chair around, right into her mate's arms. "Damn you Vegeta, don't scare me like that!" she gasped, her heart thumping in her throat. 

He laughed that throaty laugh she knew so well and buried his face in her hair. "I am lonely. Come to bed," he invited.

"Sounds wonderful," she sighed, "but I really need to-"

He swept her up in his arms and said contently: "I knew you'd agree!"

"But I didn't."

"Yes you did." He opened the door with a well-placed kick and led her out of the lab. 

Bulma put her arms around his neck and sighed. He was right, of course. She really needed to go to bed. In the early years of their relationship he would have just commanded her to get out of the lab and practically verbally kick her to bed, enjoying the rush of the argument, but in the past few years he did it differently. Basically he still did whatever he wanted, but he was a lot more good humored about it. She had decided a long time ago that she liked this better. "I love you," she murmured, resting her head against his chest as he carried her up the stairs.

He just answered with an absent kiss in her hair, which about said it all.

*

_(1 month and counting)_

"Where are we going, Dad?" Pan inquired, fastening her bandana over her dark hair. 

Gohan looked down at his beautiful eleven year old daughter and couldn't help mussing up her hair and bandana alike. 

"Hey! Not the hair!" she protested. 

He grinned at her, marveling over how much she was becoming a true teenager these days. She would always remain a bit of a tomboy, for that she had definitely too much of her mother in her, but she becoming more and more of a girl instead of a child every day. He loved watching his daughter grow up. "We're going to visit Dende for a bit, Pan," he told her. "I thought you might like to search for the Dragonballs."

"Do I?!" Pans eyes grew wide with excitement. "Oh dad, you are the greatest in the world!" 

He opened the door and let the two of them out. Despite the fact that it was winter, the day was gorgeously bright. The sky was crisp and the world seemed full of promise and hope. He squinted against the sunlight for a moment. "There are only three more dragonballs to find," he informed her, "but it should be an adventure all the same, don't you think?"

"Yeah," his daughter bounced. "So, do you have the Dragonradar?"

"Dende has it."

"…That's why we're visiting him. Alright then!" 

"Don't forget to be home for dinner," called a warm voice behind them. "We have an appointment with your family."

Gohan smiled at his wife. "Of course not. My mother would kill us if we'd be late."

"Or rather, she'd yell at you for a long time," Videl laughed. She gave her daughter a peck on the cheek and kissed him warmly. "Be careful, and you'd better have a few starry balls to present to me before dinner tonight."

"We will," Pan promised, her young face shining.

Videl nodded. "Good. Well, off you go, then!"

They took off at a slow pace. It was early in the morning, and Gohan did not want to tire Pan out needlessly. Searching for the Dragonballs usually involved all kinds of zany adventures, and she would need all of her energy for it. Of course, she had done it before. Goten, Trunks, Marron, Bra and Pan took it upon them every year to sneak off and wish for something silly with the Dragonballs. They still thought that their parents did not know what they were doing, which amused Gohan to no end. He liked the adventurous spirit of the younger generation, but that did not mean that there wasn't always one of the parents looking out for them on such adventures.

They had never needed it so far. It seemed like the new generation was very inventive and resilient where it came to adventuring. Of course, Goten and Trunks had faced worse opponents than angry baby-dragons and ravines and the weird things they would encounter on their Dragonball journeys, and Marron was responsible enough to look after Bra and Pan. And on their last adventure two years ago, before they went into space, even the youngest had looked after themselves.

This year however, Gohan would take his daughter on a quest for the four remaining Dragonballs. The one, two, four and five-star Dragonballs were currently all at the Son residence, and Gohan intended to complete that collection.

Pan was extremely giddy. She was singing and laughing, jesting with him all the way to Dende's Lookout. Dende and mr Popo were already waiting for them. Gohan shared some smiles and memories with his old friend. Dende had come far since they had met on Namek, and so had he, but they had always cherished the friendship between them. And Dende had needed a lot of friendship, especially in the first years of his Kami-status. Being a God tended to isolate you a lot, Dende had told him once. 

They left within the hour, the Dragonball firmly clasped in Pan's hand. Pan had demanded to be in charge of the mission, and Gohan let her. "So, chief of the mission, where are we going?" 

Pan pointed towards the North. "I think the first one is on the North Pole. We better go there first, so we have the worst part done."

"Oh great," Gohan commented. "We should have dressed warmer."

They ended up following a huge fish all over the North Pole, while the fish was swimming under the ice. Because both Pan and Gohan did not feel much for swimming so long under pack ice, they had to track him to open water first. By the time they had retrieved the seven-star Dragonball, they were soaking wet and chilled to the bone.

"I wonder why I thought this would be such a good idea," Gohan shivered, flaring his ki to warm himself and his daughter. Pan just laughed. "This is fun!"

"I already thought you'd think that."

The next two were a lot easier. One was buried ten foot under the sand in the desert, and the next they almost tripped over in a forest, hidden under some bushes. By that time, lunchtime had come and gone and they were definitely getting hungry. 

"Let's get the next one quickly," Gohan proposed. Pan did not object. 

The six-star Dragonball was only a few miles south, on the bottom of a little crook. They had some problems wrenching it out of the rocks it had rolled in between, but this proved to be no big difficulty either. "Yay! We did it!" Pan slapped her open palm against Gohans and did a victory dance.

"And in time for dinner, too," he grinned. "Come on, let's go home and show your mother what we've found."

*

_(2 weeks and counting)_

"Hey," Trunks greeted Marron as she stepped into his room. He was proud of how normal his voice sounded. It was early in the afternoon, and Trunks was browsing the internet for some colleges. He did it mostly because his mother had asked him to, but his heart was not really into it.

"Hey," said Marron. "Mind if I sit with you?"

"Of course not."

She sat down on the chair next to him. 

He did not look at her, but just kept browsing. He had no idea what to say. "So what brings you here?" he asked finally.

"I wondered if you are ignoring me," she said with a bluntness that caught him completely off-guard. 

He blinked at her. She looked pretty today. She was dressed all in blue, and she wore her hair loose today. It made her look younger. "What do you mean?" he stammered.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh please Trunks. I haven't seen you in ages. You used to drop by all the time. Don't you think I know something is wrong?"

He shrugged, and turned back to his browsing. "I didn't want to disturb you and your new boyfriend," he muttered.

"W-What do you mean?" she stammered, much like he had done only a minute ago.

"Well, my beloved futuristic twin and you are an item, right?" His voice was venomous, but it was too late to swallow the words back. This was how he felt, and he could not help it.

"Actually, we aren't. He needs a lot of love, but I can't give that to him. So we're just friends."

"You are?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

A silence fell. "Well, I'm glad for that," he said after a few minutes, turning away from the computer to smile at her. "Wouldn't want to interfere."

She smiled back at him. "You won't."

Trunks broke into a wide grin. "So, you want to go for a drink, then?"

"I'd love to."

*

_(3 days and counting…)_

It was too cold to sit on the balcony, but today Bulma did not really care. She was sitting on the edge of the railing, her feet dangling in the open air. It wasn't as if she'd fall far – her bedroom was on the second floor. She was smoking a cigarette. A nasty habit, and one she only gave in to when she was really, really stressed.

Today was such a day. 

Bulma stared blearily at the stars and could not stop thinking about the date of the day. May 21st. The first day of spring. In three days horror would descend on them. 

"You really shouldn't do that," a voice behind her said. "It's a nasty habit."

"It's not as if it really matters, does it? In three days it'll all be over," she answered the future version of her son crossly. She turned around to face him. He looked painfully beautiful; his eyes were dark and blue, a shade of sadness perpetually on his features. He wore his hair long these days. It waved in the spring breeze. Bulma wondered how such a perfect creature could have come forth out of her joining and Vegeta, and decided that Trunks had received the best of two worlds. 

Trunks' brow furrowed. "I thought you weren't into doom thinking. That's my job."

She smiled despite herself. "True, true. I'm just worried, I guess."

"So am I." He sat down next to her and stared into the distance. 

Bulma pushed out her cigarette and murmured: "I have something to confess. I need to share it with someone besides Vegeta, otherwise I'll go nuts." She ran her hands through her recently-cut short hair. "I built a doomsday device, you know…" 

Trunks looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"

She did not meet his gaze. "I managed to reproduce the armor that your Silver Terror wears. In case it all goes to hell, someone can put on the armor and end it for once and for all." She sighed. "The terrible thing is, that the one who puts it on probably goes insane in the process and ends up just as warped as the Terror. I've been running some simulations, you know, and the metal seems to reflect a lot. Ki, thoughts, such things. Imagine being in such a suit. You can't get out of it and it keeps reflecting your thoughts. At the point where you put the armor on, you're probably really angry and sad, and the suit keeps reflecting… I don't know what it will do to a human or a saiya-jin mind. So it's probably useless anyway."

"Damned if you do, and damned if you don't," Trunks mused softly. "It's a doomsday device, indeed. If the last one standing indeed has to put on the suit… he'll become one of them. And then we're back to square one."

Bulma nodded solemnly. She took a lighter and another cigarette out of the pocket of her coat and lit a new cigarette. "Yes. So I guess that most of my research has been useless. If the training hasn't been enough, we're pretty much doomed anyway."

A silence fell. For some time they were contemplating their own thoughts on the matter.

"Bring the armor anyway," Trunks suddenly said after a few minutes, when Bulma's cigarette was almost out.

"Why?"

"Because it's different than last time."

"I don't understand you."

Trunks shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I think I want a cigarette, too."

_~ A/N: And yes, we're back for action! From here on, the battle will ensue. _

_I'd like to thank Sango for her continuous enthusiasm: you're a great help!_

_Cheers, Lanfir Leah_


	13. Hope and Despair

_Hope is beauty_
    
    _Personified_
    
    _At her feet, the world:_
    
    _Hypnotized.___
    
    _~ Apocalyptica – 'Hope'_

**Hope and Despair**

Time was ticking away. He could not help it, but every passing second strengthened his feeling of impending doom. 

Future Trunks was standing on a hill, a bit apart from the others. The sky was crisp and clear as he stared into the distance. He knew it would be soon now – he did not have the exact time, but they would land in less than half an hour. So he was watching, and waiting. 

The spring wind was whipping through his hair and clothes – on this height it was a lot colder, and he remembered that this spring wasn't all that warm anyhow. It hadn't been the first time, and it wasn't warm now, either.

_It's just like way back when, when we were waiting for the Androids,_ Gohan broadcasted. His mental voice was tinged with both worry and excitement. 

_There are some parallels,_ agreed Piccolo.

_Damn right there are,_ Trunks thought bitterly. He wished they would shut up. He felt wired and impatient – he just wanted to get this over with. Over the past three years, the wait had been killing him slowly. He had trained, he had gotten stronger and better, he had become a total master of telepathy (better than most of the others), and he had awaited and dreaded this day's coming. And now it was here.

They were all here. The saiya-jin Z-Senshi, powered up beyond any belief, were all stationed on this hill somewhere. 

Bulma, Marron and Bra were in hiding with Piccolo and Dende. They were close by – acting as last a sort of backup. 

Bulma had joked that she'd be their cheerleader, but actually had the silver armor with her as a last ditch effort. They were still not sure what one could do with the armor because it was still in an experimental state. They had not dared to use it for testing, because of the legends surrounding the metal. 

Marron had wanted to fight, too. Her parents had eventually agreed that she could help out in the time of need – she could activate the Dragonballs, because Dende was with them. They weren't taking any chances.

Bra was with them, too. She was a stronger telepath than any of the fighters save Trunks (and maybe Goku or Vegeta), and so she acted as a sort of overseer of the battle. She would try to penetrate the mental shields of the Terror with relentless assault. It seemed wrong to use such a young and innocent child like such a weapon, Trunks had argued, but Gohan had given him a flat look and flatly commented that he had been fighting such wars since he had been four years old. He had managed, and so would she. And if they'd lose the war, they would all die anyway, he had added. Trunks had to agree on that matter. And Bra had not minded. She had wanted to fight, she had assured him. She had wanted to do something, to be useful. And she was not alone.

She and Piccolo would give their mental all to support them.

_'Can't I come to the picnic?' Bra had asked, big blue eyes trying to persuade him._

_'Next time, little one,' Trunks had assured her. 'Today it's going to be just Marron and me.' _

_'Is Marron your girlfriend?'_

_Trunks had laughed. 'No, we're just friends. She's too young, I think.'_

_'She's not! She's fourteen!'_

_'And I am eighteen. That's too old for her.'_

_Bra had wrinkled her nose. 'You're silly,' she had declared and left the room._

_It had been the last time he had seen his little sister, until he woke up in another timeline._

No! Focus!

He couldn't be plagued by memories of that fateful day. Not now – he needed to remain sane today. He needed to be all there, in tiptop shape. His mind had to be a weapon as finely honed as his body was otherwise he would not stand a chance. 

He needed to focus. He needed to focus. He needed to…

_'Did you feel that?' they blurted out simultaneously with equally breathless voices. Marron, who had been behind the wheel of the capsule car, nearly crashed them into a nearby tree  when they felt the explosion of ki coming from behind them. She kicked on the brakes mercilessly, sprawling herself over the steering wheel._

_Trunks felt dizzy because of the sudden jolt of adrenaline in his system. All that power, all of a sudden. 'This… Oh Dende,' he stuttered._

_'Where does it come from?' asked Marron, looking over her shoulder._

_'Capsule Corp!' they both realized at the same time._

_Trunks did not waste any time. He threw himself out of the car. 'I'll fly back!' he yelled at her, taking off as quickly as he could. This was not good. Not good at all. This did not feel as a simple sparring match between Goku and Vegeta. This was way beyond it. Way beyond anything he had ever felt before._

_The kiburst of Marron breaking into flight was drowned in the powerplay before him._

_And as he hurried through the sky as fast as he could, he knew he was going to be too late._

And there it was. 

The ship broke through the atmosphere. It seemed to burn up for a moment, but then shot down to the earth below. 

"There they are," he sighed.

_Let's go and show those silver twerps what we're made of,_ Vegeta proposed. He was the first to take off into the direction of the spaceship. The rest followed not far behind.

Trunks watched them go for a few heartbeats before he pursued them. 

_Be well,_ he told his sister and Marron silently.

_We will,_ Bra answered. She sounded amazingly serene and calm. _You just take care._

_I will, _he assured her. 

Would he?

There were four of them, he saw, instead the five he had initially thought there would be. Their armor gleamed in the sunlight. They were just standing there for a moment – probably contemplating on what to destroy first, he thought bitterly. _I'll kill you this time, he decided. __You won't destroy my life *again*._

The Z-Senshi powered up before they touched the ground. The air crackled with pure energy. For a moment they just locked gazes with those inhuman, silver faces. 

Then Trunks felt his younger counterpart burst into brighter flames. "Hello, you are now on planet Earth," the boy said. "Which is ours. Get the fuck out of here." A Final Flash filled the air with its light and scorching heat. One of the Terrors simply extended its hand and deflected the attack. It shot into the air without doing any harm.

Young Trunks shrugged, as if he had expected this. "Come and dance with us," he invited, beckoning Goten. They performed their fusion dance with practiced ease and fused into Gotenks. "Come on, don't be shy," the fused being grinned, crackling with power. 

After that, the fight ensued, and Trunks did not have time to look at the others anymore. 

At one point he felt that Vegeta and Goku had fused, and that Gohan was fending off one Terror on his own as he was doing. 

Trunks focused into the face of the Terror as he fought. The adrenaline filled his veins, and bloodlust clouded his mind. For a while there was nothing but the fight. The kicks, the punches, the energy and the dance. For a while it was beautiful, and he reveled in it. 

The Terror wasn't using all of its power yet, but that did not matter. Neither did Trunks. They were testing each other out – or rather, the Terror was testing him, and Trunks was testing his own powers.

_'Don't worry Marron,' he sobbed in his memory. 'I will make everything right again…'_

Revenge. He would avenge her. 

No more play. He would end this here, today. On this fateful day, three years ago, the world had ended. It would not happen today. Not this way. 

He opened his mind and assaulted the Silver Terror mercilessly. A surprise attack. 

_~Confusion. Pain.~_

YES!

_Bra! Piccolo!_ He called out. _Help me! _

_I am supporting Gohan,_ he felt Piccolo's mind respond. The Namek sounded distracted and yet focused. He became aware of the battle Gohan was fighting – it was a nasty one. His Terror did not seem to bother with testing, it just went all-out. Through the link with Piccolo, he felt Gohan's pain and determination. It only lasted a moment, until Bra responded.

_I am here,_ she told him, and fortified both his mind shields and his attack. It felt like an embrace, almost like a lover. While punches and kicks and ki connected with metal, never leaving a mark, the beating on the mind shields continued. The Terror had pulled up its shields immediately after the initial attack, but they were penetrable. Both Bra and Trunks had found weak spots to hammer upon. Their fight seemed to relocate itself, they danced away from the other battles.

It seemed to last for ages. Tirelessly he fired and danced around the Terror. Both kept powering up and testing each other, while the earth below them moaned and shuddered. 

He tasted blood in his mouth. Had he bitten on his tongue in the process? It did not matter. His fists were bleeding, too, and he was bruising in a myriad places. That did not matter either. He was alive and fighting. 

Not too long from now he would tire down and then it would get harder, but for now he still went strong, and he almost, almost enjoyed the feeling of pounding on the object of his fear for so long. 

A strange feeling of separating ki told him that first young Trunks and Goten broke out of their fusion, and then Goku and Vegeta. It caused the Terror to look up in confusion for a moment. Trunks took his chance to pop a sensu bean in his mouth and felt fresh energy course through his veins. The pain momentarily vanished.

_How is the battle going on the other fronts?_ He asked his sister. 

Bra sounded worried. _Now that the fusion wore off, they're in trouble. I don't think my brother and Goten are a match for them unfused. We need to do something._

And Gohan was in pain, too, he felt, dropping his mind shields for just one heartbeat. Vegeta and Goku were doing alright, but it seemed that Gohan had encountered the strongest of the Terror. _Are there gradations of power among them? He wondered._

He felt a sudden surge of admiration coming from the Terror. It seemed to be directed elsewhere. 

Oh yes, there were gradations. There was a hierarchy – he had just never noticed before, because he had always seen just one or two of them together. 

He needed to finish this one off so he could help Gohan. Maybe they could fuse?

The thoughts and realizations came to him all in that same heartbeat that his Terror was distracted.

_I can beat you,_ he thought vehemently at the Terror. _I will make you suffer._

The Terror turned to face him again. It still did not talk or show any emotion, frustratingly enough. But instead it made a gesture that indicated 'come and get me'. And so Trunks did, hope surging through his mind, strengthening every blow he dealt.

The wind whistled in his ears as he plummeted towards his enemy. The air smelled like ozone and lightning when the Final Flash exploded from his outstretched hands. His blood was singing and flowing alike. Bra was in his mind, reassuring and alive.

"Die," growled Trunks, filling the sky with short bursts of light. The ki sizzled and crackled – then exploded as it connected with the Terror. The energy looked gloriously violet as it shimmered on the armor, the moment it exploded. This time, the Terror winced and came back more violently than before.

_He's angry,_ said Bra. _I think you're hurting him._

_I'd better be,_ Trunks thought back. He was tiring down, becoming slower – he could feel it. Blood and bruises were reappearing, and the battle fever was making place for fatigue. He needed to end this, and he needed to end this quickly.

The Terror came down upon him once more, a whirlwind of pain and fury. Trunks danced around him, hoping to deflect most of the anger, but he failed. All that was left was blocking and trying to find an opening, then. 

Bra's venomous voice startled him when she spoke._ Like it on Earth? It took him a moment before he realized she was talking to the Terror. She must have found an opening. He found one now, as well – a well-placed kick to the jaw, before he somersaulted away. _

Bra's laughter filled his mind. _There's a lot more where that came from. Scared yet?_

_~Rejection. Repulsion. Anger. Strong, pure hate~._

The feelings crashed over him like a cold shower, but they were mostly deflected by his mind shields. Bra, who had built her own walls within Trunks' defenses, laughed again. Her girlish giggle made a stark contrast to the mature way in with she spoke. She reminded him of their mother today. _Oh my, am I distracting you? So sorry. Oh, wait, I am not._

"Fuck you and the spaceship you came on," Trunks added, letting Bra handle the mental assault. She seemed to be able to handle it alone, now that she had found an opening, and he needed all of his energy in this fight. 

_Yes,_ Bra gasped, as he felt her slip from his mind. She was moving somewhere – where? 

No matter. He kicked, and kicked, and punched, and even clawed at the Terror. It seemed to be slower now. What the hell was Bra doing? 

He twirled away from the silver-clad nemesis, and powered up for another blast. This one took some time. Precious time which he had not had earlier in this fight. That's what it all came down to, wasn't it? It always came down to time. Time and Destiny. 

Trunks smelled the ozone again as a blue light formed around his hands. "I'll get you…" he whispered. "Eat this. This will end it."

Suddenly, the Silver Terror let out a bloodcurdling scream. The sound made Trunks' neck hair stand on end, and he almost dropped his energy in surprise.

_NOW!_ His own mind, and Bra's voice, shouted in unison. 

And so he did. He unleashed all his hate and anger with his new ultimate attack. "Burning HELL!" he screamed, in time with the pain and the terror of his enemy. As he released the energy, he felt the mind shields of the Terror drop, and a flood of thoughts and emotions rolled over him. It consisted mostly of hate and insanity. Bra retreated, but Trunks rode the wave of emotions and kept pouring his soul into the ki-blast. _This should end it,_ he thought again. It had to.

And it did. 

Finally, blessedly, the Silver Terror vaporized in the blue light. 

Only specs of dust and light remained.

_He needs mind control over the armor_, Bra said, sounding tired. _Without mind control, he's nothing. Well, he's still strong, but he's a match for you. _

_We beat him,_ Trunks thought. Wonder filled his heart, until he thought he'd burst with joy. _Marron__, do you see me? I avenged you, I did it, I finally did it just for you. I promised I'd make things right again, and I did, I-_

_Trunks! _Bra called, pulling him out of his reverie. _There is more to do, listen to the battle!_

He opened his mind to become aware of the world around him. Gone was the secluded little world that had only allowed the existence of Bra, the Terror, and himself. Information and sensations rained down on him. To the south, Goku and Vegeta – holding their own in battle with a Terror. 

Not far to the east: Gotenks. They had apparently found the time to fuse again. That was a good thing – although the battle was rough and hard, and Gotenks was battered, bruised, and severely ticked off. 

And to the north: the joined minds of Gohan and Piccolo. And this felt wrong. Gohan was exhausted. Piccolo was pouring energy into him instead of assaulting the Terror. The Namek was one of the greatest tactical minds they had – he wouldn't spend his time on giving Gohan energy if the situation wasn't very dire. Gohan was losing. Trunks became aware of blood-flecked spit and broken ribs, of exhaustion and the struggle for oxygen.

_Gohan__ needs us, Bra said worriedly. She sounded very, very tired now. _

_Yes he does,_ admitted Trunks, popping another sensu bean. He'd need it, if he wanted to back up Gohan. He was fighting the strongest of them and he needed the best Trunks could offered for backup. To his frustration, Trunks noticed that the sensu was not quite ripe yet. It was his last one and all he had, and it took a while for the bean to start working. 

Valuable seconds ticked away while he concentrated on Gohan for mind support, while he waited for his body to heal. Gohan's mind was raw and bruised. It was filled with images of Pan and Videl, safely hidden with the others somewhere down the earth. Was it a cave? He was fighting for them, defending his family with all his strength. He had forbidden either of them to be around. If all should fail, they could search for the Dragonballs. If everyone else would die, including Marron and Bra and Bulma, they would be the backup. Gohan had wanted to keep them safe – and they kept him sane throughout his pain. 

_Why aren't you doing anything?_ Bra asked impatiently. Fatigued as she was, she was determined to keep fighting. She definitely had her father's spirit – once she set her mind to something, she refused to back down. 

He was about to send her a thought about the bean, when he suddenly felt an explosion. A ki explosion. 

It scorched him – the earth trembled… it severed a tie… and over the mind connection, Piccolo let out a horrible scream that was filled with grief, loss and burning anger.

_What happened?!_ Bra shouted in disbelief. 

But of course they both knew already. 

Neither of them could feel Gohan's ki signature anymore. 

Gohan had been killed.

*

Bulma nearly suffered from a heart attack when her daughter suddenly burst into tears and began to shriek. She immediately threw her arms around the little girl, fearing the worst. Her nightmares were coming true. "Shh be silent, sweetie. You don't want them to hear us," she whispered.

Bra just sobbed, clinging to her mother desperately.

Over Bra's shoulder, she exchanged a look with Marrons shocked blue eyes. "What happened?" the blond girl asked breathlessly. 

Only a minute ago, Bra had been ultimately concentrated, determined, and even smiling nastily. She had been very… Saiya-jin. A lot like Vegeta, really. It had soothed her fears and given her hope. But now this… an explosion had occurred and Bra was breaking down. Bulma wondered who had died. Her stomach clenched into a tight ball. If it was Vegeta or Trunks… or future Trunks… or Goku… or…

"Gohan is dead," her daughter cried, almost exploding with grief. She was filled so deeply with it that she did not know what to do with herself. She pounded against her mother's shoulders, trying to channel her pain. Bulma suffered through the attack of despair, even though it hurt her extremely. 

Gohan. 

She remembered a shy four year old boy with a tail that hid behind his fathers legs on the beach, peeking out curiously. He had a hat on with the four-star dragonball on it, looking unbelievably cute.

She remembered a boy, as old as her own daughter, who had defeated the monster called Cell, losing his father in the process. That boy had been broken by grief, yet shimmering with a rage and power and intelligence that was unnaturally bright. 

She remembered that same boy, years later, looking noble and tall and handsome, through a veil of her own tears while he slipped a ring on the finger of a beautiful darkhaired girl. He looked so proud and beautiful that day. She had shared handkerchiefs with Hercule Satan that day, sniffling and blowing their noses together. 

And now Gohan was dead. 

She could not believe it. 

But her daughter had to calm down. The battle was still raging, and her loved ones needed her. She beckoned Dende to support Marron, while she herself told Bra sharply: "We still have the Dragonballs, silly girl, and the others need you. Come back to your senses, Bra Briefs, NOW."

Liquid blue eyes looked up at her, tears streaming over her young face. "He's dead," she hiccupped. For the first time, Bulma detected fear on her daughter's face. And fatigue. "The Terror's too strong. We'll all die," Bra gasped.

"Of course not," she snapped. "Unless you want to give up now?"

"I don't think I can fight anymore…"

"Of course you can. Dende, heal my daughter, she needs her strength."

The young Namek looked troubled. "I don't think I can heal the fatigue of the mind, Bulma. She's not injured."

"So what?" Bulma lashed out. "Try it anyway!"

A warm light enveloped the Namek's hands and made Bra tinge golden. The young girl closed her eyes for a moment, letting the healing light wash over her. For a moment, she looked beautiful in the golden light – was this what she would look like, if she would have the ability to transform into Super Saiya-jin, Bulma wondered. 

Bra opened her eyes. "I feel better, but still tired. I don't think…"

"Stop jabbering and fucking concentrate on the fight, Bra! They need your help!" Bulma shouted, losing her patience. 

"Right," her daughter said, suddenly all professional again. "Piccolo is grieving. Someone should go to him."

"I'll go," offered Dende.

 Marron wiped the tears from her face. "I'll go with you," she said, and they left quickly.

"Goten and Trunks need help too. I'll ask Trunks to back them up," Bra continued, focusing again. Her eyes had a distant look, and her face wrinkled into a frown of concentration. "Trunks, hurry!" 

*

Goten and Trunks just broke out of their second fusion when they felt the unthinkable happen. Gohans ki vanished.

"He's dead!" Goten choked out, falling on his knees on the rocky ground. His ki level dropped like a stone.

Trunks was too slow to shield him from the blow that the Terror dealt his friend. The loss doubled their disorientation from breaking out of the fusion. He simply had not seen it coming. A flash of silver, and blood went spraying. Goten rolled over in the dirt like a rag doll, and his body crashed into a nearby boulder. Dust filled the air. 

"Goten!" Trunks shouted. 

He had no time to think, because the Terror descended upon him. He felt malice and hate flowing out of the Terror, but had no chance to try and do anything to it mentally – he needed all his concentration on the fight. And the grief kept hammering in his head: _Gohan__ is dead, Goten is down…. _

It distracted him, and it gave the Terror a large advantage. 

How the hell was he supposed to fight when such an emotional blow was dealt?

Blows and kicks were raining down on him. He was struggling to defend and block, but too many punches and kicks were coming through. Trunks tasted blood in his mouth. He could not believe that it would end like this.

* 

Vegeta had just dealt the Terror an extremely powerful kick, sending the creature reeling through the air and crashing into a nearby mountain. Vegeta used the time he had created to send a Final Flash after the Terror – when he felt something snap. 

Goku, who had been powering up a Kamehameha, suddenly went very still. All the color drained from his face. He looked as if he had seen a ghost. "….Gohan…?" he whispered over bloodless lips. 

_There's no time for this, Kakarot_, he reminded his old rival. _We'll bring him back later. _

But the other Saiya-jin did not respond to that at all. It was as if Goku's mind went totally blank – he did not move at all.

"Kakarot!" Vegeta hissed. 

Still no response.

The Terror emerged from the mountain.

"Damn you Kakarot! There's a battle going on here!"

There really was no time for this. Vegeta boosted his ki and went at the Terror alone this time. There was no one to back him up mentally, but he gave it all he had and fought for all he was worth. _Kakarot_ will come around later,_ he thought. _The fool has always been too damn soft-heartedly. Too easily distracted. I don't mind, I'll just kill that twerp myself. Telepathy backup or not, I'll kill you,_ he vowed. _

He felt Goten's kilevel drop, as well.

And then his own son began broadcasting pain and despair. 

It was then that the Prince of all Saiya-jins began to taste bitter fear on his tongue. 

_A/N: Sorry about Gohan! I hate myself for doing this, too._

_Don't worry, I won't leave you hanging for too long with this cliffhanger. I'll update soon._

_~ LL_


	14. Angels Fall

_Like a whisper_

_ she was gone_

_Like an angel,_

_and__ angels fall_

_~ Apocalyptica – 'Hope'_

**Angels fall**

There are some advantages to being presumed dead. The good thing about it, for example, is that no one takes you in account, which is very useful when you want to move stealthily. 

Goten found this out while he was wriggling himself out of the mountain. He kept his kilevel deliberately lower than the average human and built a wall around his mind, so he could not be detected by anyone. His heart was beating in his throat while he ran to the place where he knew Dende would be hiding. He had to rest rather frequently, because his surpressed ki-level robbed him from his energy. He was battling dizziness and the pain from his injuries, and it was frustrating him to no end. Time was precious now: he was currently too weak to take on anyone, he had no sensu beans on him, and Trunks was dying. 

The Terror had left his friend to die, and Goten was absolutely terrified by that particular idea. He climbed the hill as fast as he could to the secluded range of boulders where the others would be. Trunks needed Dende's healing powers, and he needed them quickly. It was too late for his brother, but Goten would rather slit his wrists than let his friend die as well. He could still feel Vegeta battling nearby: a little too close for comfort, really. It seemed like explosions were occurring all around him. His nerves were fraying and he was about to reach the end of his rope when he almost stumbled over Bulma and Bra.

Two identical pairs of shocked blue eyes locked on him, not seeming to believe what they were seeing. Where were the others?

"Where's Dende?" he inquired. "Quick, there isn't much time."

"He's with Piccolo," Bulma responded. "I thought you were dead."

"I'm not, but Trunks almost is. Where the hell is Piccolo?"

"He's a little downhill, on the east side," Bra said. She looked sad, tired, and very, very young. Goten had to resist the urge to hug her and tell her it would be alright. "I'll tell him that you're coming."

"No need," Goten said flatly. "I can find him myself. They can't know I'm alive. Not until I've been healed and Trunks is helped. Until then, I'm dead meat. I want them to know that." And with that, he departed, almost tumbling down the hill in his hurry to get to the Namekians. 

*

What do you do when you see your loved ones fall all over again to the hands of your worst nemesis? What do you do when you see the nightmare of three years ago occur all over again?

Future Trunks did not know the answer to that. Bra's grief exploded in his head before his own could, and for a few heartbeats he was too busy fighting off her pain to do anything else. She retreated quickly to her own mind, and that's when his own anguish hit him. 

So what are you supposed to feel if a thing like this happens?

Anger? Pain? Despair? All of them?

Trunks just responded in the only way a Saiya-jin prince could: he roared in anger and used his pain to fuel his strength and sharpen his mind. It was all he could do. 

The Silver Terror would pay for this. Dearly.

Screaming, Trunks took flight to where Gohan had fallen.

His father would have been proud of him.

*

Young Trunks was blurring in and out of consciousness. Fragments of thoughts, dreams and conversations were playing through his head, until he did not know anymore whether he was awake or not. There was a taste of blood and dirt in his mouth. He tried to spit it out, but failed. An attempt to open his eyes failed just as horribly. The light was too bright, and silver migraine spots were dancing through his vision. 

_I am dying. This is really it,_ he thought weakly. _What a sucky way to go. There's so much I still want to do. _

"You're not dying, Trunks," Marron told him. Her voice was sweet and gentle. 

"Yes I am," he protested. Did he say it out loud, or was it all in his mind? "It's a pity really. I haven't even gotten around to kiss you yet."

She laughed. "Don't worry, we'll get to that later."

He really had heard it. It was real! Trunks opened his eyes and squinted at his surroundings. Most of the world was black and silver, but he did see Marrons blue eyes. She looked worried. "Dende's here, Trunks. He's going to heal you."

"Where?" He touched around blindly, pain shooting through his whole body. He winced.

"Don't move, Trunks, I'm right here," The young guardian of Earth told him solemnly. "I am here, I will heal you." He did not feel the warmth at first, because his body was too confused to recognize it as a good feeling instead of pain. But gradually, the warm feeling took over and replaced the pain. He felt his energy returning. 

Eventually, he was able to breathe again. Trunks opened his eyes and smiled weakly at the worried faces above him. "Dende, that's a nifty trick you have. Let's get you out of here before they find out what you've done."

The three young warriors nodded at each other and prepared to part ways. Trunks suppressed his kilevel and searched around for Goten. Once they could team up again, they'd have another chance. Oddly enough, he felt a lot better now that he had seen Marron. "Get out of here quickly!" he called after the retreating figures of his saviours.

They did not see the silver face watching them.

* 

Vegeta wiped the blood away from the corner of his mouth. He was getting very, very ticked off.  "Why won't you just die?" he snarled at his assailant.

Naturally, the Silver Terror did not respond.

Seething with frustration, Vegeta pushed himself back into the air for another round.

_Kakarot__?_ What the hell are you doing?__

Goku's mind was raw with grief and anger. _I am here,_ he finally answered. His mental voice sounded eerily devoid of emotion. _Keep it up, Vegeta, I'll attack his mind. Trunks and Bra managed to destroy one of them this way, we'll take care of the other. _

Vegeta smirked, and powered up another Big Bang Attack. _That's more like it._

The Silver Terror was too late to dodge or deflect the kiblast, so instead it responded with a kiblast of its own. The energy was raw and silvery. When the two blasts connected, Vegeta felt the shock reverberating through his whole body. He steeled himself, and prepared to push.

_You're doing great, Vegeta. Keep pushing. I'll take care of the mental part,_ Goku's silent voice told him. Glimpses of Goku's mind were shown throughout the struggle while his one-time-rival unleashed a mental attack that would have made Piccolo proud: grief and unyielding anger strengthened both of their powers. They had agreed to fight their own battle so Piccolo and Bra could support Gohan and Future Trunks – and they kept fighting their own battle. They had to. There was no time to check upon their children, even though Goku clearly worried about Goten and Trunks. Vegeta bit on his tongue and tried not to let this distract him. This was more important, this is what it was all about.

They could sort out the rest later. 

"Die!" he snarled at his opponent, pouring his very essence into the Big Bang. 

*

He was already engaged into the battle when Bra joined him again. _Trunks?__ Are you alright? She asked tentatively. _I'm sorry for leaving you.__

Trunks did not answer; he was too busy dodging and deflecting the blows from the Silver Terror. No wonder Gohan had such a hard time with this one earlier. Trunks found himself heavily on the defense for the first time today.

_Piccolo is okay again. He's going to back up Goten and Young Trunks, although he's not sure whether he can connect with a fused mind, They were in trouble a bit earlier, but Dende has healed them, so they should be fine,  _she told him quickly. _I'm going to help you.  
Whatever you do, do it quickly,_ he snapped back at her. His mind felt close to snapping under the heavy concentration and the burden of the fight. Like the last time he had fought the Terror in the other timeline, he was truly struggling to save his own life here. 

_I will._ Bra's focus shifted off his mind. He felt her slide away to another target, and then felt her attacking the mind of the Terror.  

He just hoped it would make any difference, because he had no idea how long he was going to last this way and he was out of sensu beans.

Whatever they did, they indeed had to do it quickly.

*

Close to her, Marron saw Goten burst into power to join his childhood friend in battle once more. Answering the call, Trunks powered up as well. They were flaming in the midday sky, bright and magnificent. She had seen them this way a million times before, but never so ferocious and so determined. It seemed as if the playfulness, that had always seemed to define them, had drained out of them and all that was left was a harsh mercilessness. 

"Come, Marron," Dende urged, pulling her sleeve.

Marron nodded, when a silver flash in the corner of her eye startled her. "What was that?" She held her hand above her eyes to shield herself from the bright sunlight. Her eyes scanned the azure blue sky for a moment. A strange feeling of deja-vu overcame her. Didn't someone tell her something about a similar situation?

There. Where Goten and Trunks were going. There was one of the Silver Terror. 

Why was it so close by?

…and why was it watching her?

"Shit!" she squealed. 

In the end, she had only one second. And to her credit, she used it wisely.

Marron planted her hands in Dende's side, and gave him a fierce shove.

The young Guardian of Earth lost his balance and tumbled down the hill, away from the line of fire. Marron took the blast alone. 

The moment the ki pierced her, she recognized the familiarity of the situation. 

This was how Future Trunks told her she had fallen in the other timeline. Here she went down again… but at least she had saved the Dragonballs this time. 

And then the world went black.

_A/N: I officially hate myself now. I'm *so* sorry for doing this, but this scene was just very necessary for the flow of the story. At least we still have the dragonballs.._

_~ LL_


	15. Torn

_But in this heart of darkness_
    
    _Our hope lies lost and torn;_
    
    _All flame like love is fleeting_
    
    _When there's no hope anymore_

_~ Apocalyptica – 'Hope'_

**Torn**

The spring sun was shining down on them, slightly clouded by the large amount of dust in the sky. Around them, explosions were tattering the landscape. For the past half hour, the earth had been rumbling in protest against the fury that was unleashed upon it. The whole geography was changing, and the kilevels that were utilized were upsetting the ecosystem of the planet. But still the battle raged on.

In her arms, Bulma felt her daughter suddenly freeze.  Next to her, Piccolo, who had joined them, looked up sharply. 

"Marron!" Bra choked. 

"Get out of his head, Bra!" commanded Piccolo, his eyes flashing. "Now! You'll drive him insane!" 

"I…. I…."

"Bra!" Piccolo roared. "He must not know!"

"He already does," she said with a small voice, looking frightened. Fresh tears were filling her eyes and spilling over her already tear-streaked cheeks. "They all do. I wanted to warn her…and everyone heard me but she…"

Bulma sucked her breath in and pulled her daughter closer against her, absently stroking Bra's aqua-colored hair. _Marron__.__ Oh dear. Sweet Marron._

"I have to help Trunks," wept Bra. "I have to. He's all alone and scared and sad."

Tenderly, Bulma stroked the tears of her daughter's face. "Are you alright, sweetie?"

"I have to," the young girl muttered, and closed her eyes to concentrate again.

"Dende is fine," Piccolo informed Bulma gruffly. "Marron saved his life. He'll be with us shortly."

Bulma just closed her eyes and wished she had never come here. Or even better, that this day had never come. The armor was still in its capsule, hidden in the pocket of her jeans. She did not want to resort to let someone wear it: it was simply too dangerous. And the Z-Senshi were so strong, they should not need it. They had trained so hard… so damned hard, that *had* to be worth something. It had to be.

*

Gotenks had used to be a wildcard in battle. Because of the playful and cocky nature of the two demi-Saiya-jins, the fused being they represented was arrogant and unreliable. As the years had progressed, Goten and Trunks had grown both more responsible. Piccolo had counted on that; he did not want a repeat of the battle against Majin Buu this time. During their mental training he had tried to drill them as much as possible, leaving no room for smartass behavior from any of the boys. He had taken special care that they would know the severity of the situation by manipulated them into spending a lot of time around Future Trunks, for example. 

And it seemed the strategy had worked. Gotenks seemed a lot more serious and responsible than he had been during the battle with Majin Buu. Of course it helped that Gotenks had known defeat before, by Buu's hands, and didn't think of himself as Dende's gift to humanity anymore. Gotenks fought hard and ferocious, and his only flaw now was his impatience and agitation. But that did not matter. 

Piccolo let them beat on the Silver Terror's exterior, while he was exploring the interior. The mindbarrier was different than the other Terror he had fought, Piccolo noticed. Curiously, he tried to find a weak spot and succeeded quickly. The Terror was mightily distracted by a Kamikaze Ghost Attack, which made it almost laughably easy. 

It almost seemed as if the Terror offered him an opening. For a heartbeat Piccolo hesitated, but Gotenks was making, despite new injuries and the beginnings of fatigue, good progress with pounding the Terror into a pulp… and the temptation was simply too sweet to resist. Piccolo wanted to know what made the Terror tick, and his grief over Gohan made him perhaps a little rash in his decision to dive in. He just wanted to hurt something. The gentler side of him, the part that used to be Kami, urged him to be careful, but Piccolo did not listen. 

He dived right in.

The next moment, he found himself stuck. It was like being held in a headlock – tight and unyielding. He struggled a little, only to wriggle himself even further into the mental hold of the Terror. This was definitely not a good idea. _Let me go, damn you,_ Piccolo snarled.

Around him, all he felt and managed to visualize was a black, bottomless pit of hatred. 

_Gotenks__? He ventured carefully. The hold around his mind began to squeeze. It hurt._

_Yes, Piccolo?_ The joined voices of Goten and Trunks answered eagerly. The mental voice was filled with an immense glee. 

_He's capturing me. I can't go anywhere – he's holding me hostage._ Every thought, every probe his mind made, was a torture. Piccolo longed to sink into oblivion, but he couldn't. There were things to do and battles to fight, first. If only it wouldn't hurt so much.

_The Terror is losing its power as if someone pulled the plug, Piccolo,_ Gotenks informed him. _Is that because it's focusing on you?_

_Probably,_ Piccolo groaned. _Keep hitting him, and he'll let go eventually, I hope._

But at the same time, the hold on his mind began to squeeze even more. A terrible, terrible pain seared through his mind, as it was being pulled inside out. He felt like a balloon that was being squeezed until the point of bursting. Visuals of his mind bursting came to his mind's eye unbidden, and he knew that this was what would happen. 

_It is using the pain to torture me. That damn Terror turned Gotenks' attack into my headlock. But if it is losing its power… that means that it is dying. _

The terrible truth began to dawn upon him. The Terror was dragging him down with itself. It simply refused to die alone. Because Piccolo occupied its mind, it was helpless against the physical attacks. But the physical attacks strengthened the hold the Terror kept on Piccolo's mind at the same time, so it refused to let go. And the pain was getting unbearable. Once more he tried to struggle out, but to no avail. 

_Oh shit. The damned Terror is really going to go through with this._

_What is it?_ Gotenks asked. Images of armor shattering, of sunlight glittering on shards of silver.

He did not even have to think about his choice. The Guardian inside of him loved Earth and its inhabitants too much not to sacrifice itself. And so he made his mental voice sound controlled and soothing. _Nothing.__ Keep pounding. _

But in the depths of his mind, Piccolo screamed in pain.

*

As focused as he fought, Future Trunks was always aware of the life force around him. Especially where it came to the ki of the people he loved. So when Marron's ki suddenly vanished, he knew instantly.

The fact that Bra broadcasted her mental scream to any telepathic mind that would happen to be listening, was of course a dead give away as well.

So what happened to Trunks when he felt Marron die? There was one flash of insight:

_Then:_

_Marron__._ Her hair in a ponytail, wearing a grey furry coat. She is looking up at him and the Terror is looking down on her. He wants to scream her name, to warn her, but it happens all too fast, before his eyes. Before he can warn her, the beam leaves the silver-clad hand and spirals down to meet its target.__

_And Marron's chest explodes in a red mist as she is thrown to the ground…_

_Now:_

_Marron__._ Her hair in a ponytail, wearing a darkgrey t-shirt. She is looking up at Young Trunks and Goten who are flying up to meet their opponent and the Terror is looking down on her.__

_This time, she sees it coming. She has time to react; so she pushes Dende out of the line of fire, saving the Dragonballs and a possible resurrection for Gohan. And herself too, because her chest explodes in that same red mist as she sags through her knees…._

The similarity was mind-shattering. Trunks screamed in anguish and let loose a Burning Hell attack greater than he ever had in his life. He was alone for a moment, before Bra joined him.

_Marron__ is dead, she said, her mental voice sounding very young and very sad._

_I know,_ he told her, and his mind cried with her.

*

_A chain is as strong as its weakest link,_ Piccolo had told him during one of their numerous training sessions. _So a wall around the mind is as strong as the one weak spot you can manage to find. And there always is one._

This particular wall seemed impenetrable, but Goku was not about to give up yet. He was too distraught to stop – he had to channel all that destructive energy somehow. The last time he had felt like this was when he watched Freeza kill Krillin, and that particular emotion had caused him to transform into Super Saiya-jin. Goku was a lot older now, and rather sure he was near the limit of his almost bottomless well of power. So he was channeling his mind frantically – searching, scanning for weak spots. He had to find something deep down there. He visualized the mindbarrier as a silver wall with a smooth surface. Like a mirror. All he had to do was bang against it and shatter it. It would be so nice if he would see it shatter into a million shards. He would take the shards and cut up that inhuman mind into myriad pieces. He owed it to Gohan and Marron. And Goten, who was up and fighting again – but Goten had been hurt, too. And no one hurt his loved ones like that and got away with it.

_You are beginning to sound like a true Saiya-jin in your old day, Kakarot,_ Vegeta thought at him in a stolen moment. His thoughts sounded amused.

Goku was about to answer him, when his mind suddenly seemed to feel weak spot. As if he could reach through and break things on the inside of the mirror. If he could just… 

He pushed, he pulled, he fueled his mind with the love for his family, and suddenly he broke through and found himself in a desolate wasteland of thoughts. He touched around for a moment, while his physical body was aware of cries of frustration and pain emanating from the Terror. The mind had been human once, but it had been totally twisted by an intense hatred that seemed to be present everywhere. 

Information and knowledge crashed over Goku's mind. Two races at war, the battle never won, hate, death and competition tainting generation after generation. At last, a device that would end it all. This being had been selected as Angel of Death once – to finally defeat the enemy. But the armor had taken over – the metal was design to reflect ki and mental assaults kept reflecting the angel's own hate back at him time and time again, until he had become a caricature and a nightmare of himself, and had been killing, killing, killing… everyone on Aranza had died by the hands of the Angels, including his loved ones. And after Aranza, they had moved on to other planets. The Angel of Death, as it thought of itself, hated its companions with a vengeance, but was unable kill them – they were too strong, and an almost misplaced feeling of self-preservation was all that kept it going, oddly parallel with the self-hate.

And Goku understood.

This creature was beyond salvation. All Goku could offer him was a quick death, to put him out of its misery.

And in turn, the Silver Terror understood. It could not save itself anymore, it was outnumbered and it had only one chance. It planned to counterattack.

When two minds are truly linked, there is an understanding that goes beyond mental communication. Intentions, dreams and wishes of the person on the other side of the link are felt as clearly as your own. And this is how Goku was on time to prevent a disaster from happening. 

_Vegeta__! he called, a mental warning to cease fire._

Two fingers to his forehead, concentration, Instant Transmission.

There it was. He only had to touch the Terror to teleport them all away to the Otherworld. It was unfortunate that at exactly that moment Vegeta had been physically connected to the Silver Terror, but it could not be helped.

Goku's last thought before the Silver Terror self-destructed was that at least the planet would not have been taken out – just the three of them. At least the others would live. And maybe Vegeta and he would survive, too?

*

The explosions occurred within a mere second of each other. 

Trunks almost did not notice them because he was fighting with his whole heart again; fighting for his life and his sanity, leaving no room in his being for anything else. 

It was the vanishing of ki that alarmed him, and Bra's response to it. He was getting used with her outbursts of emotion in his head now, and managed to shield himself mostly from it. He had to focus focus focus on the battle, he could not be distracted now, not while he was fighting, not while he was _killing_…

He did not ask, she told him. She vanished for a while, probably to try and spare her from the worst of her outburst. 

_Piccolo just fell. He's not responding. I can't feel his mind anymore. Goten and my brother are unconscious and bleeding, Dende is healing them. They already used all of their sensubeans earlier. They are very hurt, so it might take some time._

He did not answer, he knew there was more.

There was worse to come.

Of course there was – he was battling the Silver Terror, remember?

Everyone would just die all over again.

Naturally they were the last ones standing.

Wasn't this his fate, his destiny?

_Then:_

_There is naked pain in Marrons eyes, an ill expression on her face. She is so desperately trying to be strong. "It's just you and me now, Trunks. Goten is dead. We… we're the only ones left."_

And now:

Bra sobbed, a pathetic little sound. _And…__ Dad and Goku are gone. The Terror with them, too. I don't know where they are, I can't reach them. I don't know whether they're dead or alive. Mum says they're missing in action. We're the only fighters left, Trunks._

Naturally they were the last ones standing.

Wasn't this his fate, his destiny?

How the hell was he supposed to fight Time and Destiny itself?

_~~ Author's Note: you know the saying: things always get worse before they get better? Can't get much worse than this, don't you think?_


	16. Dance

_What the hell are you trying?_
    
    _What happened to you?_
    
    _Are you still denying_
    
    _That this is the truth?_

_~ Apocalyptica – 'Path'_

**Dance**

First there was a red haze; the next moment there was a sound that was both so piercing and familiar that Goten snapped out of his half-consciousness with a shock. The sudden intake of air made him choke. Hands rolled him over on his side, allowing him to cough up clotted bits of black blood. The light was too still too blinding to look into, so he kept his eyes firmly shut while he concentrated on getting the blood out of his lungs. 

"Careful," Dende's gentle voice advised him. "We have you in hiding, you are safe for now. However, you've been bleeding internally, and you took a nasty hit on the head that I don't dare prying into. Keep yourself still." 

_Too late,_ Goten thought ironically, when his back arched with the tearing coughs. 

Behind him, the voice had stopped screaming. All that was left was a heartbreaking sobbing. Goten recognized that sound… he had not heard it for years, and it brought back dark memories. He rolled over on his other side. "Trunks?" he asked hoarsely, squinting against the sunshine. His head was aching like he had the mother of all migraines. Trunks did not respond. He was cooped up in his mother's arms. On every other day this scene would have embarrassed him to death, but not now.  He cried as if someone had died.

_Is he crying so hard over Gohan?_ he thought for a moment, but that did not make sense. Trunks liked Gohan, a lot even, but not so much that Gohan's death (Goten cringed at the stab of pain that came with this thought) would devastate him so utterly.

Bulma had her face buried in her son's lavender hair, wetting it with her own tears. 

Someone else, then.

Bra was sitting next to her mother, watching Piccolo's still form without registering. Goten tried to feel if she was linked with Future Trunks, but his head hurt too much to make anything out. The glassy look on the young girl's face said enough, anyhow.

Piccolo seemed to be unconscious. That was the last thing he remembered: Piccolo telling him/them to continue pounding on the Terror. Goten remembered being Gotenks, filled with power more than he had ever felt before. And battling, while the Terror was weakened and they had finally killed it. But not before taking a severe blow to the head – the one that was still making him feel unfocused. It hurt like a bitch, to put it bluntly. 

The Terror had died, Piccolo had fallen, and so had they, eventually. 

_So who else had died?_

"Who?" he croaked at Bulma.

"Marron," she whispered, still embracing her son for all she was worth. 

Goten buried his face in his hands and wished for unconsciousness. 

*  
Their dance was horrible and beautiful to behold for anyone who might be watching. It would have to be someone who could follow the sheer speed that the two opponents were displaying, because their strikes were lightning quick, too quick for the untrained eye to follow. Kicks, punches, blows, blasts, they all followed each other in rapid succession. Concentration and focus was so present in the two opponents that one could almost taste it in the air. Concentration, focus, and pure, intense hatred. 

Trunks and the Terror twirled around each other. Diving, dodging, reflecting, countering, spinning. Quick and flashing, like lighting or electricity. It was all instinctive, all thoughts blanked from their minds. Trunks knew only a few things: he really, really hated the Silver Terror for everything he had done, and he really wanted to hurt him, even if it would be the last thing he did. And that the bastard just wouldn't lie down and die. The Terror was simply too strong. His mind shields were impenetrable and his armor was the strongest he had encountered this far. 

_This must be their leader_, Bra agreed.

_I don't care,_ thought Trunks. _As long as he dies.___

_~Hatred. Determination.~_

The Terror had deliberately broadcasted those emotions to him. Trunks and Bra picked them up clearly enough to realize this. Trunks snorted._ I'm glad we agree on this._

He somersaulted away and tried to power up for a Final Flash, but instead found himself on the defense as his legs were swung out from under him by a well-placed kick. The wind whistled in his ears as he blocked and kicked and punched and spun and kicked and danced around the Terror. He was tired and he knew the Terror was not, but he'd rather die than give up now. They had bitten deeply into one another, and they refused to let go. 

_Then:_

_The fight kept going and going as if they'd fight forever. He'd give that Terror the fight of its life. His fists were raw and bloody, but he did not care. There was more blood upon him, more than was probably healthy, but at this point Trunks did not care that much about health anymore._

Now:

The only difference was that Bra was here with him. She was half distracted because in her physical body she was trying to get Piccolo to wake up. It slowed down their progress, but Trunks did not really mind. The fight seemed to last forever, and Trunks enjoyed every blow that connected. Even though he was fighting in defense of his life and the ones that were still standing, it felt so good to pound away his anger and his frustration on someone that really deserved it…

Blood and health did indeed not matter anymore. 

Just the dance. 

*

Her son was draped around her, his body strangely boneless and clenching at the same time. Her strong arms surrounded her and Bulma buried her face in his hair, trying to console him. "I still haven't kissed her yet," he murmured against her shoulder. "She can't be dead. Not like this…"

"There's still the dragonballs," she said softly. "Please sweetie, calm down. I can tell that you're powering up, and we need to stay low profile here. We don't want to draw attention with the two of you hurt like this."

"I don't CARE!" Trunks pulled himself loose from her grasp abruptly and looked at her with startling blue eyes that somehow reminded her of Vegeta, or maybe the older Trunks from the other timeline. He looked tormented, as if he had a terrible anger that he was unable to channel. "I can't lose her. I can't lose you. Any of you. Just look at Bra, mom."

Bulma glanced at her entranced daughter and felt her heart ache. "We should do something," she whispered. "We need to do something. I don't think Future Trunks can pull it off."

"We can fight," Goten said, although the unfocused look in his eyes told everyone differently. "We're not dead yet. There has to be something…"

Something.

Bulma felt her hands clench – fingernails drove deeply into the palms of her hands. _(The armor?__ What the hell are you thinking? You can't do this, this is too dangerous, we can't sacrifice any of them like this – it's insane and horrible. You can't you can't you can't – it's too risky – and where is Vegeta? Where is Goku? When did this battle turn so sour? I don't want to make this decision-) She had to make that decision. But who and when? And how? _(No, damn you! No one can do this! They'll be lost forever to a fate worse than death! You can't do this, woman.)_ But who else could? They were running out of options fast. She needed to make a decision. She was the only one who could do it._

She glanced at Piccolo for a moment – still unconsciousness and feeling oddly empty. 

Bra, _(little one)_ entranced, with trails of tears still on her young face.

Goten _(like a son), grieving over his brother's death, crusted blood in his spiky hair. _

Her son _(beautiful) ,_ nearly mad with grief, guilt, anger and pain. Also suffering from head injury that Dende did not dare to heal.

Dende, Guardian of Earth, but looking so very young and insecure in this moment, because he clearly knew what she was thinking.

Vegeta _(lover) and Goku __(friend), missing in action. Dead?_

Future Trunks _("I think I want a cigarette, too"), fighting to the death with a horror from outer space. _

_Life for the planet, death for you.___

Bulma looked at the palms of her hands and noticed that they were bleeding. Little half-moons of blood were welling up where she had pierced her own skin. She sighed, long and shuddering. "I can't do this," she whispered.

*

How do you stay sane when bloodlust and hate are thundering through your mind and adrenaline is filling your veins? How do you stay sane when you've lost the person you love the most for the second time? Thoughts and coherency are suddenly wiped out, and all that remains is an urge to kill, to destroy and to hurt. A primal need to drink blood, to hurt, to emerge victorious. Vegeta had told him once that the Saiya-jin rage is fearsome and that it takes over every fiber of their being – that is why the Saiya-jin children were so terrible during their first transformation to oozaru. The bloodlust simply clouded every other thought in their mind – leaving only the urge to kill behind.

Future Trunks had reached that particular state of mind right now. All he wanted was to hurt, break, maim and kill – and it fueled his ki to levels it had never been before.

Bra, in his mind, had distanced herself from her – she was afraid of him, and tried to concentrate on the mental block alone. It was different now. They still pursued the same goal, but not as one person anymore. Their rage and anguish formed a barrier. Bra was relentless and brutal in her mental attacks – fueled by a passion and intensity that was far beyond her years. She was as Saiya-jin and as human as he was, and her pain was the same. Despair and fear had vanished from their minds, completely overshadowed by rage, determination and the intensity of the fight. 

They were both beyond any reasoning, beyond anything but bloodlust. They had bitten deeply into their opponent, and they would fight to the death. 

*

As for their opponent, who could guess what went on behind that silver mask? 

It was a creature that did not even think anymore. All of its remaining intelligence was used for battle strategy and evil cunning. Mere thoughts had all been clouded in a bloodlust much like the lavender haired young man before it. The creature, that had once been a living person and now referred to itself as an Angel of Death, was now less than human – and in some way it was more. It was a true vengeful angel with unbelievable power, and it brought vengeance upon anything it encountered.

*

Thus so they danced, and thus the Earth shuddered under the immensity of the power that was displayed and inflicted on it. Every being on the planet could feel the earth below their feet tremble. Many people had sought refuge in open spaces, afraid that the end of the world was upon them. 

Hercule Satan had taken it upon himself to try and reassure the masses by appearing on TV and boasting that whatever it was, he could handle it. But in the meantime, he feared for the life of his family and everything he held dear. 

Nevertheless, he had to do his duty. And so he planted his hands in his side and laughed heartily as he challenged whatever was attacking the planet. Nothing responded for now, and the earth continued to rumble. The sky lit up in the oddest of colors; the colors of ki energy that were filtered through clouds of dust. Hercule Satan had seen this before… long years ago when he had been with Vegeta and Goku during the battle with Majin Buu. Satan remembered that day, and tried to fight down his fear.

The Earth would be victorious. It always had, and would be, this time.

* 

And on that sunlit hill, not far from the battlefield, Bulma Briefs unclenched her hands to wipe away her tears. Smears of blood from her palms remained on her face, but she did not even notice. Her mouth tightened in determination. She would hate herself forever if this would not work.

"I think I found a way to beat the Terror," she announced to the others. "But it's going to take everything we have… and it will cost us everything if we fail."

"Tell us," the Guardian of Earth urged.

Bulma explained her plan.

_A/N: Argh, cliffhanger, I know! The next part is already written, just needs some beta and polishing, so it won't take long.  
I want to thank Apocalyptica for their inspiring music – their passionate and brilliant music has practically revived this story when I truly thought it was dead and buried. _

_Also, last but certainly not least:  I'd like to thank all of you for the lovely reviews I am getting with this story. Thank you all so much, couldn't do it without you. Love you all!_


	17. The Things We Do For Love

_There are things you do because you have to _

_there__ are things you do because you want to _

_…and then there are the things you do for love._

_~ Source unknown_

**The things we do for love**

He dealt a backhand. Hard. Powered by ki, and hitting home with full strength… right in the throat. Trunks allowed himself a smirk and moved to kick his opponent down into the earth. The Terror, reflexively clawing at his throat, did not have time to defend and crashed into the hill below with a thundering crash. 

A few moments respite. 

_He's weakening,_ said Bra. _But I am not sure it will be enough_.

Trunks took a few unguarded, deep breaths. _I don't care. I just want to hurt him. _

_…_

He felt her hesitation._ What is it, Bra? _

_There is a plan to destroy the Terror. But mom is not sure whether it will work. And we'll have to give it our all. It will be dangerous._

Trunks snorted, checking the damage below him. The dust was clearing and the debris was stirring. His opponent should return soon; he'd better make sure he relocated before that time. _And fighting like this isn't? he retorted pointedly._

_This is worse. _

_I don't see how._ There. Silver was gleaming. Trunks dove out of the area where the Terror would expect him. He was only half paying attention to the mental conversation with his sister – the fight was top priority.

_I don't know how to say this,_ her young mental voice groaned. 

_Show me, then. _

Silver energy burst out of the ground in a bad parody of molten magma. It glittered in the sunlight for a moment, before Trunks deflected it and let it explode in the open sky with a blast of his own. "Missed me, bastard," he breathed. That was all the time he had, before the Terror descended upon him and flashes of images, much like he had experienced during his time travel, bloomed up in his mind.

_-Young Trunks and Goten fusing into Gotenks _

_-"We can fight, we're not dead yet"-_

_-Bleeding, unfocused, but determined, ready-_

_-Bulma, bloodstains on her face, telling them "You'll be a decoy"-_

_-Ki energy sparkling around two combatants – silver and gold-_

_-and himself, immersing his body in silver-_

…Silver Armor?

_-(__"I managed to reproduce the silver armor…")-_

He'd be undefeatable.

He'd probably go insane, too.

_Would you? _

_Could you?_

For one heartbeat, he did not know. Then: thoughts. 

_Damned if you do, damned if you don't.__ You can't win, they will die. And you, who are you anyway- you're from a dead future. What does it matter what happens to you? _

_Give your life, and Marron and Bra will live. Goten and Young Trunks will live. This future will live. And it's not even your life… just your sanity, or whatever is left. Is that such a high price to pay?_ He thought of Marrons sweet smile, and it wasn't. 

"I'll do it," he told Bra out loud, his eyes still locked on the expressionless silver face of his opponent. Still battling. Always battling, as if they'd never stop and fight forever.

Bra was silent for a few moments. Sudden grief weighed upon his mind. Was it his or hers? _I'll protect you,_ she vowed suddenly. Her mental voice was vehement; her attacks on the Terror were venomous. She vowed with the unbreakably strong belief and the resolve of the eleven year old child she was. _I won't let you go insane. _

Trunks just fought the Terror, and thought of love, prices and sanity. 

***

"Fu…. sion…. HA!"

The two young men were emanated by a bright light. When it subsided, there was one where there had been two. Dark fathomless eyes that reminded Bulma of both Vegeta and Goku, a cocky grin, and strands of both lavender and black hair. "Don't worry," Gotenks said in his strange double voice. "I'll take care of it all."

"You're still bleeding," Dende remarked.

"Shit happens," shrugged Gotenks. "Heal me when I'm back." The fused being locked eyes with Bulma. "I'll send Trunks to you, and he can put on the armor. Tell him to hurry, I don't know how long I can hold the Terror off."

"Just do what you can," Bulma said breathless, taking in the youth before her. She needed to look, needed to see, needed to _remember_… because maybe – no, no, don't think that. She had to say it, though. "Don't die."

"I won't." 

Gotenks nodded at Dende, looked at her and Bra one last time – not to say goodbye (she couldn't afford to think like that) and then took off, powering up until he shone as golden as the sun. He had been careful enough to power up when he was well out of range, so the Terror wouldn't guess their location. It probably wouldn't notice anyhow, because it was too busy battling Future Trunks, but Bulma was glad that Gotenks took precautions.

It didn't take long until Bra opened her eyes. "He's on his way."

Bulma nodded and thought how good it was to see her daughter awake.

"It's good to be awake… because I can do this!" her daughter grinned, and hugged Bulma hard. "Will we be alright, mom?"  
Bulma could not help hugging back. "I hope so. I'm so sorry."

"Me too."

"For what?"  
Passionately, Bra buried her face in Bulma's shoulder. "For not being strong enough."

Bulma stroked her daughter's hair and wanted to cry. "Darling, you are magnificent. All of you are. I love you."

"I love you too," Bra whispered, and then tore herself loose to turn around. 

Future Trunks touched ground. 

***

It was strange to fight without Piccolo, Gotenks mused, as he dove headfirst into battle. This Terror was definitely stronger than the one he/they had fought earlier. It was also… weakening, somehow. Gotenks tried to probe into the mind of the Terror, but a stabbing headache prevented him from going too far. "Argh, that wasn't such a good idea," he groaned, somersaulting out of the Terror's reach for a moment. "Just old fashioned martial arts then," he decided and readied himself.

His headache was blinding and stabbing, his vision was shimmery and blurry at the edges and his whole body was throbbing with pain and energy alike, but Gotenks was determined to make a stand. 

And if it would be the last one, so be it.

***

For one moment, Bulma could not believe how beautiful her future son looked. Hadn't the Silver Terror called themselves Angels of Death? Trunks looked like the epitome of an avenging angel. His hair had come loose from his ponytail and was matted with blood. His armor was cracked and had even melted at places. He looked bruised and battered, had a black eye and a dangerous-looking bruise at his right temple, his lips were swollen and his eyes were pools of blue electricity – but he looked beautiful. That was all she could think of. Beautiful.

"Give me the armor," he croaked. "Quickly."

"Of course." She reached into her pockets, and found the capsule. "I am so sorry."

"Don't be," he spat impatiently, as he waited for the capsule to reveal its contents. "I am glad to pay the price. Tell Goten and Trunks to kill me before I lose all control."

"I will." 

The late afternoon sunlight gleamed on the armor before Trunks took it in his hands. "You have to help me," he said. His voice sounded uneven, emotion cracking through.

Bulma, Dende and Bra all helped him. 

"I am so sorry," Bulma whispered again, before she clasped the last part shut. All he had to do now was put the mask on, and he would be gone.

"Don't be," he said again and smiled weakly.

"I'll be with you," Bra said. Fresh tears were running over her dust-smeared cheeks. "I won't leave you."

"That makes me glad," he whispered. His eyes were filling with tears, too.

Dende blessed him quickly. "Our thoughts are with you."

"My love is with you," Bulma told him, when he took the mask in his hands.

He looked wistful at the blue sky and smiled sadly. "The things we do for love…"

Future Trunks put on the mask. 

The silver rolled like mercury over his skin and his hair and locked seamlessly into place. Where there had been a demi-saiya-jin before, a true Angel of Death now emerged: glittering, gleaming, and pulsing with energy and rage despite the expressionless mask. Behind the mask, a young and pained man was hiding, and he was determined to fight and give his all. 

"The things we do for love," Bra repeated. The young girl wiped her tears, gave her mother a last, longing look, and closed her eyes to join him.

The last phase of the battle had started.


	18. Be Scared Of Me

_Be scared of me  
Behind my power_

_I will hide all my fears  
It is fierce and it moves slow_

~The Gathering, 'Locked Away'

**Be Scared Of Me**

"The things we do for love…" Trunks whispered, looking at the sky for what seemed the last time. The sky was starting to tint a tender lavender color in places – the color of early twilight. He would end this. For Marron. The shreds of his sanity seemed a small price to pay for her life… all of their lives. 

Trunks placed the silver mask on his face, immersing himself into the silver, holding nothing back. He gave himself to the armor, allowed it all to be swallowed into the silver.  There was a sensation of rolling and dripping, like mercury. 

_(cold)_

_(so cold)_

The silver encased him now, protecting him like a precious jewel. It dulled his senses and his pain… never mind that he was so cold inside. At least it did not hurt as much anymore.

Did it?

_(i)_

_(am)_

_(so)_

_(cold)_

He tried to touch around in his mind, to probe and sense, but all he could feel was the silver surrounding him. He felt claustrophobic at once – was this how it was not to be telepathic? To be stuck in your own mind, with your thoughts, alone and trapped? 

He tried to gasp and found he could not breathe. Yet he was still functioning. He was still standing and looking around at a dull overcast world that seemed devoid of color – and while he could not detect the beating of his heart or the heaving of his lungs, he was still alive. Alive in the most practical sense of the world, that was. 

He was not sure if he wanted to be.

When the worst feelings of entrapment and claustrophobia began to subside, Trunks became aware of his duty again. Gotenks. His silver adversary. The fight. The battle. Revenge. 

He had nothing to be afraid of anymore. 

All at once, he exploded into the peak of his power, and found that he could reach much, much higher. He let out a delighted scream that no living soul would ever hear (it echoed in his own mind, but that was enough for now – it even created a sense of intimacy) and took off into the lavender sky. He spiraled with delight, indulging in his newfound power. This should be enough. With this he could have his (_sweet, wonderful, glorious, sweet, sweetsweetsweet_) revenge. The Terror would pay.

He felt another mind brush his shields, but he brutally pushed it away. He did not need this. It was not relevant. He needed to… he needed to fight. To hurt. And he would be all alone in his battle. It would be all his. He would shine, and he would make his enemy bleed. 

***

Behind him/them, Gotenks felt power spiking. Unbelievable, incredible power. That had to be Future Trunks, he decided. It could not be anything else – the ki was too familiar. Too much like part of his own ki, but older, wiser, sadder… and more ruthless. Future Trunks' ki felt tainted somehow, and there was something odd about it. Gotenks could not focus on it; it felt as if his battle instinct was being deflected: like touching a mirror. 

Actually, it was much like trying to reach out to the Silver Terror he was trying to beat senseless. Aside from the blinding headache, of course. He had lost part of his vision in his right eye, and he was too numb to feel where he was bleeding. He did not doubt that it was from various places. Future Trunks was right on time; Gotenks was not sure if he could hold out much longer. Pain exploded in his stomach when he failed to defend from a nasty punch in the stomach. Blood-flecked spit sparkled in the last sunrays for a moment as he doubled over in pain. A kick against his head immediately followed. He knew it had been coming, but he had been unable to dodge. 

_Oh well, at least I got a few good hits in before I went down,_ he thought hazily while the wind whistled in his ears. When he landed, all of the air was hit out of his lungs. Gasping for breath and fighting for his consciousness, the last thing Gotenks saw was sunlight gleaming on the two silver figures hovering above him/them.

_It's all in your hands now, Future Trunks. I did what I could…_

***

Gritting her teeth, Bulma dragged the two unconscious youths in her aircar. It wasn't as if they were that heavy, but she had to be careful with them, as they were bleeding from numerous cuts and lacerations. The constant shuddering and moaning of the earth under her boots did not make it any easier. Dende kneeled next to them to assess their physical situation. They looked even worse for wear now, Bulma thought, chewing on her lip as she climbed in as well. She glanced one more time over her shoulder at the people in the back. "Are you all comfortable there?" she asked Dende. He was the only one awake. Piccolo was still in that strange state of coma, and Bra was far, far away. 

The Guardian of Earth nodded. "We are alright. Please, we have to leave now; there is no time to waste."

"Okay." Bulma nodded and turned the key for ignition. Ignoring the glaring kiblasts above her, she hit the gas and they sped away. She wanted to get as much distance between them and the two combatants as soon as possible; there was too much ki being thrown around here. Staying would be simply too dangerous, even though her heart yearned to see her future son fight the battle of his life. 

Besides, they had to use the dragonballs, and it was too perilous to summon the Eternal Dragon in the middle of a battlefield. They needed space, safety, time… and if she were wishing anyway, then they needed a lot of luck, too.

***

_Yesyesyes__, come to me-_

He was drinking in the energy – all he could muster and more. 

Drinking and drowning and indulging…

(_and__ fighting, don't forget the fighting)_

Fighting was almost an afterthought. He was overflowing with energy – throwing something in the general direction of his opponent was the easiest thing in the world. It would have been boring if he had not felt so good.

He felt so good…

It was razor-sharp, white-hot and mercury and blood-red, but it felt deliriously good. Because it was him that was the energy. The energy was all his to bathe and to indulge in. The energy was everything; never mind that it was tainted by hate.

_He_ was everything.

***

Dende had almost finished healing Goten, when a choked sound next to him made him look up. He locked eyes with a very distraught looking Bra. "What is it, Bra?" he asked.

The young girl looked at him with blue eyes filled with terror, not even aware of the dangerously high speed the aircar she sat in was traveling with. She just looked at Dende in despair. "I can't reach him," she gasped. "I don't know what to do anymore…"

The young Guardian of Earth did not know what to answer her.

***

It was not even a fair battle, but he enjoyed crushing his opponent. The armor was dented now – it did not shine as brightly anymore

_(that's because I stole it)_

he enjoyed that – he enjoyed the whistle of the wind in his air, the mercury in his blood, the sound his first made when they connected 

_(like splintering)_

He could end it of course.

But why would he?

Absently, he swatted away yet another attempt on intrusion of his mind shields.

***

When they had reached a location that was remote enough for her liking, Bulma hit the brakes abruptly. She found herself on a beach to the east of where the battle was taking place. The sheer amount of energy that was being summoned made her neckhair stand on end even out here. She forced herself not to look at the flashes of color that were discoloring the sunset – it would only make her worry. And there was work to do. 

She opened her case of capsules while the others were climbing out of the aircar. Dende was half-carrying Bra out. Her daughter had been crying again, Bulma noticed. Her heart went out to her. Goten and Trunks got out all by themselves. They looked immensely tired and still rather disheveled. "How's your head?" she asked them.

"Achy," Trunks answered shortly. He looked at his childhood friend. "But I can focus again. Can you?"

The youngest Son nodded tentatively. "Yes. But everything aches anyhow. That's because of the healing – I'm all stiff. But we'll be fine. Let's just call the Dragon, Bulma. Don't worry about us."

"Alright." 

The capsule opened with its trademark BOOM, revealing seven amber balls that gleamed in the evening sunlight. They all exhaled with relief. The dragonballs were there, they were real, and they would solve everything, like they always had.

"Dende," said Bulma with a voice strained with tension, "would you be so kind to summon the Eternal Dragon for us?"

"Of course," the Namek smiled, and called forth his Dragon.

***

Bra desperately tried to gather her despairing mind. It felt as if she had knocked over a glass of water that contained her thoughts, and as if they were spilling everywhere now. She had problems concentrating, mostly because she was so scared. She was terrified. 

_I promised him, I can't let him down. Come ON! Trunks please, we have a link… we were connected all that time, why did you shut me out?_

She was banging on a wall of silver: a massive mirror, too solid to break through. 

It did not feel like Trunks at all. Not like the sweet, pained look in his eyes, every time he looked at her. Not like her saddest biggest brother, no matter what future he came from. He had hugged her and she had given him all the support she could, and he had been there, always, when she needed him, and gratefully taken what she gave him.

She loved him. He was her big brother. A wall of silver shouldn't be able to separate them, right? _Trunks! I am here! Please, listen to me Trunks!_

(I DON'T NEED YOU) the thought thundered in her mind. 

Her breath caught. A jolt of adrenaline made her shudder. _Is this my brother? she wondered, touching the impenetrable silver wall. He seemed so… alien. So overpowering. Like a God. Not like her big future brother._

(I AM MORE THAN THAT. NOW GO AWAY)

Bra's mental fingers made the silver ripple. _I don't care about that. You are my brother. I have to be with you. I promised. _

He did not answer… but Bra did not mind. At some level, some part of him, he was listening. And for now, that was enough. She took a deep breath, and filled her mind with images of the people she knew he loved. He would listen, and that was all she needed. She knew the path to his heart. 

And so she sent a mental picture of Marron in sunlight, the way she had been on the party, almost a year ago.

***

"I am summoned," the Eternal Dragon boomed. "What are your wishes?"

Dende looked up at the Dragon in the darkened sky. The dragonballs were his own creation, but it still awed him every time he saw what they could do. "I wish for the resurrection and the restoration to power of my friends that passed away today. Please make it so."

The dragoneyes glowed. "It is done."

"Yes!" Goten cheered, high-fiving his friend.

"What is your second wish?"

Dende hesitated for a moment. "I suppose you can't tell us how we can get Trunks out of his armor?"

"The only one who can do that is himself. I cannot tell you more."

"Thank you, Eternal Dragon. We would like to make our second wish."

The Dragon hovered over them. "Tell me."

"I would like for the ones you just resurrected, to be here with us now. Could you bring them?"

"It will be done. I will go back to sleep now." 

Within a heartbeat, the Dragon disappeared. The dragonballs flashed their magical light once more, and then sped off in different directions. It would be a year before they could be used again. But that did not matter, because behind him Piccolo stirred in the aircar, and Goku, Vegeta, Gohan and Marron materialized out of thin air.

"Welcome back, warriors," said Dende warmly. 

Bulma made a sound deep in her throat and seemed to hesitate for a second before leaping into Vegeta's arms. Reflexively, he caught her and held her for a moment, burying his face in her hair. Their moment was short, but full of warmth, before he let her go and muttered something about embarrassment and public.

"Thank you Dende," Goku answered brightly, wrapping his arms around his two sons. "It is good to be back." 

And there was one more reunion, but that one was wordless. Marron had thrown herself around young Trunks and was kissing him passionately. The demi Saiya-jin did not hesitate; he kissed her back joyfully. When their kiss finally ended, she looked at him with twinkling eyes and grinned: "So now we got to kiss at last."

"I do not know why I waited so long," Trunks answered, smiling down on her and hugging her tightly. "I'm so glad to see you."

The Guardian of Earth looked upon the Z Senshi, and felt hopeful inside.


	19. Blood And Mercury

_And you give in  
And you give out, for it  
Ain't it so weird  
How it makes you a weapon.  
Never turn your back on it  
Never turn your back on it again_

_Be careful_

~ Matthew Good Band – 'Weapon'

**Blood and Mercury**

He felt violated. Something had wriggled its way inside his perfect sanctuary, and it was worming deeper and deeper into his mind. It was distracting him. It felt filthy somehow – he did not want anyone here. And however he tried to banish this _thing_ out of his mind, it would not go. It clung onto some discarded part of his mind; it seemed to encourage the growth of an unnecessary remnant of his old life that he did not even want to look at anymore. His old life had been filled with pain and sadness, and he had left it behind without any regrets, embraced the searing power that had scorched him clean.

He now was pure perfection and power and energy and rage, why would he want to hang onto the imperfect being he used to be?

But that _thing_ was feeding his old memories. It was reviving that part of him he wanted to die. He could not have that. 

However, his toying with the Silver Terror distracted him from chasing his intruder out. He had to end it somehow. One of these two threats had to be eliminated soon, or he would fall apart and go insane on the spot. On some instinctive level, he was sure that his old memories would desecrate his painless and beautiful sanctuary, damaging it beyond any relief. They had to remain locked up forever. They. Had. To.

The being that used to be Trunks took a deep breath and breathed pure energy. It filled him with power until he thought he would burst. He ignored the feeble attempts of his enemy, his toy, to break loose from his death grip. It wasn't as if those attempts were fruitful, anyway. He kept drawing in energy – drawing and drawing. 

He would end it. 

***

"Dende!" Bulma shrieked. "He's outshining the sun!"

"What on earth is going on there?" Goten pulled loose from his father's embrace and stared at the eastern horizon with horror in his eyes. The power of the ki that was being channeled was beyond any belief. He had been unable to feel the ki of the Silver Terror, but somehow he was very able to detect Trunks. Maybe because he had been fused with his younger counterpart on a regular basis – it was a feeling as familiar as feeling himself. There was a difference, of course. This ki was infinitely stronger, and horrible and _silver_. 

"Someone is going to die," Vegeta commented, crossing his arms. His voice was laced with amusement. "And I don't think that it is that kid from the future."

***

Two silver figures gleamed in the evening sky, burning brighter than they had any right to be. Ki energy crackled around them, as one of them was trying to struggle itself out of the hold the other had on its neck. 

No one would have survived being in their near vicinity – the sheer energy that they produced would have killed any normal living being instantly. It was crushing the earth beneath them and made the sky seem as if it was cooking. Clouds were swirling around in mad patterns and lightning forked between the sky and the ground. Gusts of wind tugged at the ragged landscape. Tornados were formed and died on the spot. The earth moaned and shuddered, cracking the rocks and leveling the hills with a haywire gravity. 

And the two silver figures did not even notice. They just continued their struggle.

Or rather, one of them seemed to struggle, while the other just seemed to hold him. 

The enormity of what was happening here was felt all over the globe, but they did not seem to care. All that existed for them was the other, and the battle.

***

There was a second battle was going on, unseen to any living person. It was vaguely felt by any telepathic creature that happened to reside in the vicinity of Earth, however: it was a battle of minds. An eleven year old girl with blue hair was battling against the mind of an armored youth that desperately wanted to forget a part of himself. It took all of Bra's willpower to remind him again and again. She knew that he had just fled from the pain and immersed himself in his armor and his power to finally cleanse himself of the sadness and the edges of insanity. She knew that he would probably be happier this way; but he was too dangerous. He did not know what he was doing anymore. Her big brother had fancied himself a kami in a matter of minutes after putting on the armor. What would happen in a few hours? Would he take on a kai? Would he destroy the universe? She had to awake the Trunks inside of the Silver Terror, or else all would be lost forever.

Bra Briefs bit her lip and battled. She did not even notice the salt water streaming from her closed eyelids, or her mothers arms around her. All that existed for her was the other, and the battle.

***

_Here by my side; an angel,  
Here by my side; the devil.  
Never turn your back on me,  
Never turn your back on me, again.  
Here by my side, it's heaven._

***

"Shouldn't we join him?" asked Trunks, shielding his eyes against the bright light. He was trying to follow the battle from their remote location, but he could not make anything out. 

Goku, standing in a similar position, shook his head. He glanced at the entranced Bra for a moment, almost cringing under the weight of her sheer presence. The mind of the young girl was miles away, but still so overwhelmingly present that he had to shield himself. He was afraid that she would crush him completely if he would let go for only a second. Of course he was very sensitive to mental energy; so he was suffering worse than most of the others. Gohan was sitting with his head in his hands, not even bothering to look up at the ki lights in the stormy sky. He was clearly suffering as well. Piccolo was sitting next to his former pupil, his face tight with tension and his lips curled in a silent growl. 

Vegeta was staring in eastern direction with a similar tight face, but did not show much else. Goku suspected that the Saiya-jin prince would rather die than admit the pressure that was upon him, even though he must be proud of his daughter. 

Goten and Trunks were the only ones that seemed to be coping easily; probably because of their head injury. Most of the mental communication seemed to pass them without being noticed. Goku figured that in this situation this was probably a good thing. 

He looked at Bra and Bulma for a moment. Bulma's beautiful face was twisted with grief and anxiety, while she held her daughter tightly. He thought for a moment about her horrible invention, and what it must have taken to offer it to Future Trunks. She had asked him to sacrifice himself because she had no other choice. And now her daughter and the boy that would have been her son in another time were fighting the battle of their lives, because of the decision she had taken. She had to be hurting so much.

He wanted to help them so much. It was his nature to want to ease people's suffering, but he could not do anything right now. Not yet, at least. Finally he said to Trunks: "We have to wait. Bra will tell us when to go."

And so he waited.

***

_~It is dark. Light from the glowing embers of the campfire is making flickering shadows on Marron's face. She is frowning into the fire, struggling to accept the things had had happened the past few days~_

(ignored)

_~The two of them, him and Goten, sitting on the edge of a pool, their feet in the water, the distinct smell of chlorine in his nose. There are cold drinks in their hands, they are talking about life and girls~_

(ignored)

_~His parents on Aranza, bickering with smiles on their faces. Vegeta scoops Bulma up in his arms and flies off with her~_

(pushed away)

_~Bra jumps into his arms and hugs him for all she's worth. "You are my favorite big brother," she giggles into his chest. She is seven years old~_

(roughly shoved away)__

_~When they kiss, their tears mingle. He pulls Marron close, savoring this last intense moment together. They are standing just in front of the time machine, debris and dust all around them, embracing each other~_

(sob)

(leave me alone)

The memories kept coming.

***

_Here by my side  
 you are destruction  
Here by my side  
a new color to paint the world  
Never turn your back on it  
Never turn your back on it, again  
Here by my side, it's heaven_

***

Banishing the mental assault out of his vault of pure energy, Trunks began to pound on his enemy. A flurry of punches and kicks, well-placed and high-powered, rendered his adversary helpless. Its defenses were weak and inefficient. He broke through them with ease. Splinters of silver shattered in the light of his ki. It was almost laughable. He could not imagine that he had ever been scared of this pathetic little thing.

One quick swing sent the thing he had once been afraid of sprawling in the air. Filled with energy, Trunks extended his arms almost lazily in the typical Final Flash gesture. 

"Fi…."

One notch higher. He probably already contained enough to vaporize the Terror, but he did not want to take any chances. A little more.

"…nal…"

He focused his energies on his adversary.

"FLASH!"

A release that felt better than anything he would ever feel racked his body. Brilliant violet-silver light sprung from his extended palms. For a moment he was dazzled by its beauty, almost forgetting where he was supposed to send it. But the moment was short, and he did not lose control.

_(final flash final revenge)_

One shot. Straight up. The violet-silver streaked through the sky, mocking every rainbow that would ever grace the skies in the future. And when it connected, the light intensified until no one would be able to look straight into it. Ribbons of light reflected into the evening sky, lighting it up for a heartbeat, while the rest of it did what it was supposed to do. It _vaporized_. 

The Silver Terror could not scream physically, but Trunks clearly felt the high pitched sound of complete pain and horror echo in his mind. It did not even touch him – aside from stirring some vague feelings of contentment.

He looked straight into his own final flash, and watched with satisfaction how the armor simply melted off the Terror. It became liquid, drops of it scattered in the air _(like blood and mercury) _before they were finally vaporized, leaving nothing behind. 

When the light subsided and his retina's had recovered from the spots in his vision, he could not find any traces left.

The Silver Terror was dead. He had killed it.

_Yet you made a new one,_ a familiar voice echoed in his mind. Bra?

He ignored it, and laughed delightedly at his own victory. He had won. Victory and revenge were his. At last.

***

_Be careful  
This is where the world drops off  
This is where the world drops off  
Be careful_

***

_A/N: It's scary how fitting some songs can be with the story you are writing. I simply had to implement this in the story (credits at the top of the page). Hearing it was enough to create the images I so badly needed for this chapter. One more to go, people – the final struggle is at hand. _

_~LL_


	20. Final Struggle

_Oh, if you're coming down to rescue me_

_Now would be perfect_

_Please, if you're coming down to rescue me_

_Now would be perfect…_

~ K's Choice – 'Shadowman

**Final Struggle**

In all victory there is weakness. He is so busy rejoicing over his triumph, that he is totally unprepared for the mind attack. It feels like being backstabbed; it is painful, unexpected. Most of all, it is his own stupid mistake. How could he be so careless?

She dives and wriggles deeper into his secluded world of thoughts. 

The strength of her mind scares him senseless.

She speaks. _I am here, Trunks, I won't go away and leave you alone._

(but i want to)

_I promised I wouldn't leave you all by yourself._

(break it)

_I won't break my promise._

(please)

_No._

Stubborn. So damn stubborn.   
She has bitten into his mind like a rabid dog, and her presence is tainting him, seeping into his brain like (_rabies_) a disease. She is desecrating his sanctuary – destroying his peace with images of his past. He does not want her here. She has to go.

(leave now)

_No. I can't._

(if you will not leave, i have to kick you out)

_Try me_.  – Defying, determined.

(i would hate to hurt you. i remember loving you once.)

A moment of pressing silence. She is twisting at some old memories, trying to tear them loose from his guard. Dammit. _You still love me. You just don't want to remember. _

A memory is torn loose, slipping out of his grip to torment him. A flash of memories cascades over him like waves in the ocean. The ocean… a beach.

~ _a__ beach. Golden sand and golden sun. A little girl with blue hair smiles up to him, her eyes radiating a complete trust and happiness. He picks her up and twirls her around. She is squealing in delight and he laughs back at her, oh he laughs ~_

He screams in rage. This is not supposed to happen! With all his strength, he slams down his shields again, only to find that they are already crumbling. He has virtually no defense against her ongoing attacks. He can sense her fatigue, but knows (_another twice-damned memory_) that she's too stubborn to give up. That was just the way she works. He remembers. Oh yes, he remembers.

~ _a song. __Powerful, fast, full of rage.__ 'Don't you realize that evil lives in the skin?' He dances around his room. He stretches out his arms and yells the lyrics along on top of his lungs. The adrenaline is dizzying. Kami, that feels good ~_

She penetrates his shields with laughable ease. _You're not evil. You are the best person I know. Her mental voice is soft and soothing. _

But he realizes. 

(don't you)

(realize)

(that evil)

(lives in the motherfucking skin)

He slams her out of his mind. It is not even shoving anymore; his thoughts have created a battering ram that kick her out with a power that seems so vast that it can only be fueled by hatred. Scorching, purifying (_sweet_) hate. It's so easy to hate. He indulges in it. 

(**GET OUT!!!**)

She bounces back again just as quickly. _I love you, she starts tentatively._

(fire, scorching fire, burning him clean, please please burn me clean)

He doesn't want this pain (_this taint) inside of him. He is safe here, nothing can hurt him. Why won't they leave him alone? Hasn't he done enough already? Feebly, he tries to defend the old parts of himself. He can't let her get to him, he knows that, but it's almost useless to even try._

_Yes!_ The female voice in his mind squeals with triumph as she unlocks another memory. He feels the backlash when it snaps free. He has tried to guard it, but she is stronger than he is. Kami, he is so scared. 

(please leave me - oh. Oh, no)

~ _Lavender sky, sunset. Sadness, resolve. A feeling of self-righteous sacrifice._

_"The things we do for love," he whispers._ ~

Love?

(…)

_~ Her sweet taste makes him feel light-headed. "I am sorry, Marron," he says and hits her in her neck. She convulses only once before turning limp in his arms. He picks her up and carries her over to the time machine. If she is safe, then nothing else matters. ~_

(Marron?)

He feels his intruder smile. _Gotcha. _

_~One finger, one beam. Straight down._

_It happens in slow motion; his ultimate nightmare is replaying itself over and over again before his mind's eye. He tries to open his mouth to scream (to warn her, to deny it) but he doesn't have time to do anything. It just happens, and he is powerless to stop it. That beam. Marron...~_

(no no nO **NO**!)

Hysteria.

(i can't see this. i am not seeing this. not here. i am safe here, nothing nothing nothingnothingnothing can hurt me here …not even those memories the pain can't touch me please leave me alone haven't I done enough by now won't you please have mercy please?)

She responds. _I am so sorry, Trunks._

Suddenly, the world stops making sense to him. He doesn't know what to do, what to feel, what to think anymore. His sense of purpose is crumbling. What was he doing again? Why is she hurting him? Don't you realize that evil lives in the skin? 

All he can trust now are his instincts. Raw, overpowering, it is all he has. And his instincts are yelling at him to defend himself. She is tearing him apart, and he cannot let her. She has to go away.

_I am with you._

(I want you out of here.)

_I will not leave._

(Then I will have to kill you.)

***

The Saiya-jin prince opened his eyes slowly and raised his head to the others. He was leaning against a rock, his arms crossed in that signature stance they all knew so well. 

"What is it, Vegeta?" Bulma asked. She had been watching his concentration and wondered what he was picking up. Even she was feeling the momentum of spiritual energy that was being utilized by her daughter, but she could not make out any finer points of mental communication. The others all did, and they were listening. She felt alone and scared and very, very helpless. All she could do was hug her little girl while her children were fighting a battle for the sake of the universe. 

Vegeta shot her a disturbed, dark look. "We have to prepare," he announced.

"For what?" asked Bulma. She looked around at the others. Her heart caught in her throat when she saw their worried looks. She swallowed. "For what, Vegeta?"

"He's coming over," Vegeta said, waving into Future Trunks' general direction. "He's going to try to kill Bra."

***

_~Family dinner at Christmas. The biggest stuffed turkey he has ever seen sits on the candle-lit table. Vegeta is teasing Bulma about her cooking skills, but tonight she takes it in good humor, because she has done a wonderful job on her Christmas cooking, and she knows it. The table looks lovely. When Trunks sits down next to his baby sister and looks out over the beautifully dressed table, at the faces of his family members, he feels all warm inside. He is twelve and he wonders vaguely if this is the true Christmas feeling they always talk about on TV...~ _

_~He is seventeen. He does not know yet that the world will end in a couple of months. He pulls the girl closer and dirty dances with her. The lights are flashing and the beat is booming. It is giving him a headache but the girl is pretty and Goten ran off with her friend earlier tonight and he doesn't care because it feels too good. He feels alive.~ _

Now that she has been able to pull a trigger memory loose, it feels as if the whole fabric of his memories is falling apart, spilling random memories everywhere. She is trying to make sense of them, but he gave up a long time ago.

He is searching for her physical ki. 

(there)

He takes delight in the stabs of panic she is feelings. She is afraid of him. _Trunks, please.__ Don't do this, Trunks. You'll kill us all at this rate. Don't come and find me._

(then leave me alone) 

She is so close to him that he does not even have to communicate the thought. She can pluck it out of his mind like a ripe apple. 

_I can't_, she wails.

(determination)

and then:

(confusion)

There is wind whistling in his ears. Where is he going again? There was a sense of determination only a bit ago. He is struggling against something unseen. There are memories, images and dreams filling his vision – he does not know what is real anymore. He is holding on by his fingernails; a shredding feeling, like ripping cloth, fills his mind. What is happening? 

(nausea)

(fear)

His body is moving simply on instinct. His mind is (_broken) somewhere, still frantically trying to make sense of the images – as if he is dreaming and sleepwalking both. _

_~ He is Gotenks and pokes fun at Majin Buu, bursting with self-confidence~_

_~ He is Gotenks and feels Marron speed off in the aircar, covering her back against the Silver Terror // he feels his brother die and hopes that she will find the dragonballs, or either some sensu beans ~_

_~ He is himself, looking at pictures of a boy with a face that he will have when he grows older. The boy in the picture stands next to a time machine and he has a solemn look in his eyes ~_

_~ He is himself, and he scratches the word 'Hope' into the time machine, overwhelmed with feelings of deja-vu ~ _

_~ He is himself, walking with Bulma (not his mother, but the past version – although by now she is his mother too) through the halls of the Aranzan cave ~_

_~ He is… someone is sparring with Goten on the spaceship ~_

_~ He is… someone… ~_

(someone?)

He holds still. He hovers silently in the air. Far below him is a beach, and people are assembled there… but he doesn't know them (anymore?)

(…)

 ***

"It is madness to try and take him on," Gohan uttered, looking up at the gleaming silver above them. "He is too strong."

"He's just confused," a soft voice said. They all turned Marron, who had her arms around young Trunks' waist in a possessive gesture. Her eyes were wide and blue.

"He is dangerous," Vegeta pointed out, not taking his eyes from the danger in the sky. "He'll kill you without remorse. I doubt he even recognizes you, from the state he is in right now."  
Marron gasped. "Is it that bad?"

Vegeta frowned at his future son, who was still just hovering fifty feet above them. "Yes. I think we need to fight him." 

Glances were exchanged. The silence stretched. No one was particularly anxious to fight a loved one, even when that loved one was out of control. Some of them had just returned to the land of the living, and they were not really enthusiastic to leave it again. 

Vegeta gave them one look of disdain. "Weaklings," he growled, and took off. 

"Vegeta!" Bulma screamed after him, but he did not look back. She buried her face in her daughter's hair and tried to control her fear. She was teetering on the edge of hysteria. Things had gone so well, and now they were all in mortal danger. If this would not work, they would surely all be doomed.

***

Someone is approaching. He lets him come, uncaring what might happen. 

The person has dark upswept hair and a regal bearing. He scowls. "So," he begins with a throaty voice that is frosted with anger, "what the hell are you doing here?"

He cannot answer, but he can power up. The feeling of it is wonderful. He wants to smile when the energy is coursing through his veins again, filling him with sweetness. 

"You want to fight?" the dark-haired person assumes. He raises his chin arrogantly. "Know that if you even bruise one of mine, I will destroy you. I will not let you get to them, even if you are my blood."

(blood?)

The presence (the intruder) in his mind wails. _Trunks, he is your father! You know him! She tugs at a memory, and breaks it loose. It drifts like a soap bubble through his mind._

_~ He breaks through an invisible barrier. It is easy, he is strong enough. The golden energy washes through him. It transforms him into something different, yet still the same. He looks at his completely abashed father and laughs in delight. He is a super Saiya-jin, so Vegeta has to take him and Goten to the park now. He promised! ~ _

He cringes and clutches at his head, trying to banish her and the memories out of his mind again. Of course it doesn't work. _I'll kill you, he vows. It is the only way._

Without even looking at the dark-haired person, he loses altitude. He'll land before her, and then he will destroy her. She will be gone, and he can lock up the memories again. All will be well again. No more confusion, no more pain and fear. 

So he drops himself, only to be kicked up again. The dark man glares at him and throws a punch, which he blocks. Naturally. "Didn't I tell you to stay away from my family?"

***

"Goku," Piccolo suddenly spoke up. "Can't you teleport us all away from him?"

Goku solemnly shook his head. "What would it help? He would just find her again. It would buy her time, but I don't think she can break through to him right now. It seems like she's only confusing him, making him angrier. He's not accepting his memories."

"Of course he doesn't!" Marron burst out. "They hurt him!"

"They are part of him. He needs to accept them," Goku told her. His voice was gentle and full of worries. "I just don't know how."

Bulma looked up from her daughter, who she knew was listening to the conversation. "But why doesn't he accept the good memories, then?" she wondered. "Think with me, people. Maybe he needs a trigger?"

Trunks, in Marrons arms, stiffened. "I know," he said softly. "I know his trigger."

They all looked at him, but he was just looking at the blond head that was nestled against his chest. "It's you, Marron. Or maybe Goten. But I think it is you."

***

It is disorienting to stay in his mind for too long. Bra works on frantically – sorting through images with a feverish concentration, working on and on, not looking back at the destruction she leaves behind, not daring to look at what she is doing. She might be driving him insane right this instant, but there are different kinds of insanity and she knows that one is more dangerous than the other. 

_I am so sorry,_ she sobs, but she just keeps on hurting him. 

Trunks is fighting (_our_) her father. She has to stop him, or someone might end up killed. Bra tries not to think of either of them dying, because it distracts her from her task. The idea alone hurts too much. _Why me?_ she wonders, and that hurts, too. She is lost in a sea of feelings and memories and images and she's not even sure anymore what is his or hers. And how will she ever find her way back to her own mind, out of this silver-tainted madness? This is her _brother_ she's plaguing, not the enemy (_but he is!_), and she's trying to drive him over the brink of madness. All she has to ensure is that it's _his_ madness, not some silver-induced craziness… not the insanity that comes with godlike powers. Just… human madness. Or saiya-jin, for that matter. 

She is just discarding a memory about getting food in the school cantina when a suggestion bubbles up next to her. It feels familiar, so it has to be her own mind. It's her mother's voice. Is her body hearing this right now?

_Maybe he needs a trigger?_

A trigger. Of course. It's so logical! 

And the memories he has reacted most violently on, were…

_It's you, Marron. _

She holds still in Trunks' mind for a moment, looking around for the most violent memory in his memory, the one that hurt the most. She's been there before. His memories are distorted and incoherent – there's no real sense of a timeline in his mind anymore. But it doesn't matter. She knows how to find that one memory. All that matters now is timing.

***

"Come on then!" Marron yelled impatiently, jumping into the air to join the fighting pair in the sky. Her hair had come loose from the ponytail and was whipping around her head because of the storm that was caused by the ki that was being utilized above them.

"Be careful, Marron," Bulma warned. "It's dangerous up there."

But Marron, fourteen years old and very much a teenager, just raised her chin and said defiantly: "Living is dangerous, too."

"I'll protect you, Marron," Trunks said, following her example. His hair was as storm-blown as hers, and his expression was just as determined. They nodded at each other and took off, Goten following in their wake, calling out: "Hey guys, wait for me!"

Gohan was looking up at the three teens and wondered: "Should we follow? Krillin would kill me if something would happen to her."

Goku just smiled faintly. "That already happened. Let the younger generation handle this, Gohan. This is their battle."

"Like Cell was mine," Gohan understood, not taking his eyes off the battle in the sky. He could not help smiling, either. Somehow he felt peaceful deep inside; all of a sudden there was a feeling that it would be alright in the end. "You have a strange way of raising warriors, father."

"It is the only way," Piccolo agreed. "A warrior needs a battle to prove his strength. If Vegeta would be here, he'd say exactly the same."

"I just hope they'll be alright," Bulma breathed, clearly not as sure about the situation as they were. "I just want us all to go home now and take a long bath and sleep for the next ten years or so. Safely." She squinted against the figures in the dark sky. "And there they are."

***

Another voice. 

He looks up from the fight with the dark-haired man to see three others. Two young men and a girl. Their faces are… familiar. The dark-haired boy… he remembers… 

(_a starry night and lying on his back in the grass, a laugh and a talk…A friendly arm around his shoulders when he feels down…_) 

No… he remembers… 

…the boy with the lavender hair and the blood in his hair…

(_a__ reflection in glass: bloodstains, blue eyes… while he scratches something into blue shiney material… the face is sad… is it his own?)_

And he remembers…

The girl.

Blond hair, a grey coat. 

He looks at her uncertain expression. At her delicate features, her almond-shaped blue eyes (_so blue, even with this light_), her hair. Her grey coat with the furry cuffs. She spreads her hands. Still uncertain… 

Why is he all still inside?

The whirlpool of emotions has stopped. The memories are gone for a second. He just looks at her… he just _looks_ at her… and he…

"Trunks, do you remember me?" she asks.

And he REMEMBERS.

the rain (_in his face, cold and wet)  
the blood (_everywhere, red and cold_)  
the body (_face down and broken_)  
the love he had just found (_obliterated_)  
the loss (_she's gone_)_

the denial (_no, this can't be)_

…and most of all…

PAIN.  
   
He is Trunks, son of Vegeta and Bulma, and he has lost everything and he hurts. He has tried to forget, but his memories are a part of him that he can't deny. They ARE him, and if he is pain, all he has to do is end it.

And so he does.   
Trunks draws upon all that power that is not really his. He gathers it all in his cupped hands, creating a silver liquid fire that would be brighter than the sun if it had not already set. He will be the sun, he vows. He will burn all the pain and the taint away. He will probably burn himself, as well, but that doesn't matter anymore. 

He remembers killing the Silver Terror – he has had his time, he has had his revenge. If he dies, it does not matter. The world and the future will be safe again, for now. 

_Bra, get out of here,_ he tells her.

_Will you be alright?_ She asks. She sounds tired and young and very, very afraid.

She is in his mind, so he cannot lie. _I am not sure. But I need to do this. Love you, little one. Tell the others I love them, too. Now get out._

_Please be okay, _she sobs. The next instant she is gone from his mind. It creates one nauseating moment of loneliness, but he ignores it and focuses on the energy, instead.

The ball grows larger and larger, until he cannot hold it anymore. 

"Leave, now!" he screams at Vegeta, young Trunks, Marron and Goten, twisting his wrists until his hands point at his own stomach. The Silver Armor gleams and reflects the kiball that is pressed against it. The energy of it will burn him to a crisp, and it will vaporize the armor like it vaporized the Silver Terror. Maybe he will survive, maybe he won't, but at least he will die without that armor around him. He will die like himself, and that is good.

So he lets go.


	21. Epilogue: This Is Our Time

_This is our time, we can't rewind  
Our place to shine out, we can live it anyway  
This is our time, to feel sublime  
Our place to shine now, and we can do it anyway  
We can't rewind_

~ Feeder, "We can't rewind"

**This is our time**

He was sitting on the balcony, smoking one of Bulma's cigarettes. Twilight was falling over Capsule Corporation, and with it came the silence. It was not an oppressive silence. Trunks loved this time of the day; lately he had even been making sure he'd be on the balcony around this time. He indulged in the serenity of this warm evening in early summer; his feet were dangling in the air, and he was contemplating the color of the glowing ember of his cigarette and the color of sunset. _It's the same,_ he thought with quiet wonder. He smiled vaguely and looked at the horizon, his mind far, far away.

He was distantly aware from Bra's peals of laughter from around the corner, in the garden, where she was sitting with Pan, and the buzzing of the gravity chamber where his father was training. Capsule Corporation was rarely completely quiet, but tonight it was calm.

"There you are!" a female voice squealed. 

Trunks turned around to smile at Marron. She had her hair loose and her cheeks were flushed with mirth. She looked lovely and young tonight. "Hey, Marron. What's up?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to sit with us. Goten and Trunks dug up the barbecue and they wanted to roast some meat." She rolled her eyes. "We only ate three hours ago!"

"Well, weren't they sparring? I don't blame them for being hungry," he told her.

She flashed a grin at him. "Anyway, you wanna come? There's enough for you, too. Otherwise _they will eat it all, and I don't want a fat boyfriend."_

Trunks could not help grinning back at her. Her smile had always been infectious. "I don't think he'll get fat that quickly. You are forgetting the superior Saiya-jin digestion system."

"Of course!" she slapped her forehead in mock distress. "How could I forget?"

"My superior digestion system would like some steaks too, I think," he mused. "Or maybe some spare ribs. Do you have spare ribs?"

"Certainly. So, are you coming?"

"Of course." Trunks put his arm around his friend and left the balcony with her, joking all the way through the complex, enjoying the moment. In another time, the girl he was walking with would have been dead for two months. In this new reality, she was his best friend, and dating the boy she was destined to love. He looked at her twinkling eyes and decided that this new reality wasn't so bad after all. He could not erase the things that had happened in the past, and he did not know what would happen in the future, but that did not matter. Even if time would twist itself around and tried to re-create its old pattern, until then, they still had the present.

This was _their_ time. 

_~ fin ~_

_~ Lanfir Leah_

_September 2003._


	22. Addendum

**Author's Note**

Silver Terror has been my second writing project, and if there's something I have learnt throughout all that blood, sweat and tears, then it is that a writer never writes alone.

So I'd like to offer everyone who has supported this story throughout the early stages, the hiatus and its return: a thankyou from the bottom of my heart. You have no idea how much your support has meant to me, during the writing of this story.

As some of you might know, this story started as a one-shot, an image of a post-apocalyptic world. One-shots are my thing, I usually do not write more – I'm a scene-based writer and I do not really have a head for plots (and let's not even talk about the patience to finish writing on such a long story). 

It was your encouragement that made me sit down and lay down a plotline, and it was your encouragement that strengthened my courage to pour my own pain and insanity into this story. Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm a normal and happy gal, but I think that we all have this dark side buried deeply inside of ourselves. It was just that mine showed itself some more last year when I was having a hard time. Channeling the anger has kept me sane, mostly, and this story has been such a channel. 

Music was another. I'd like to extend my thanks to all the bands that have inspired me to write on when I truly thought this story was dead and buried. I'd like to thank especially the band Apocalyptica, who's intense and dark music stirred up all those old feelings again when I had grown over the pain. It didn't hurt anymore, but it didn't have to. Because when I came to the start of the battle; all I needed was intensity, and Apocalyptica provided it to me. It was a beautiful experience to write this story – it was thrilling, chilling, tear-jearking (I've bawled my eyes out a few times) and wonderful. 

I've tried to keep true to the series; drawing on the very interesting concept of timelines and parallel universes, I tried to give it a twist by working with the idea that life tries to follow through with its predestined pattern, even if you mess with it. Because Mirai Trunks gave Goku the cure for the heart virus and warned the Z-Senshi in the series, the earth's doom by evil androids/cyborgs was simply postponed once Destiny got its act together again. And so it did; the same threat returned with the Silver Terror. And again Trunks, bound by the same fate that wanted to repeat itself, was caught in a timeloop, found himself traveling to the past, after losing everything and everyone he ever held dear. Rather tragic, really. 

I've also tried to keep the story in the flow of the series; you will find that the way the story is built shares a great similarity with the build-up of a saga in the series. This was done intentionally, as homage to the series that has captivated me since the beginning. I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with DBZ; it's like a soap opera you can't stop watching. There are a lot of crap episodes where the plot doesn't go anywhere and the characters just sit around doing nothing, but the gems in between like the Vegeta/Goku showdown, the Gohan/Cell showdown or even Goku's ascend to Super Saiya-jin, made my neckhair stand on end. I believe I even cried when Vegeta died. Both times, I have to admit it. The good episodes make the series worth following for over two years. 

I've written Silver Terror to honor the series, to show my appreciation. That is also the reason why this story has a happy ending. For the longest time, up until Bulma made her decision to let Trunks put on the Silver Armor, I did not know whether this story would end happily or not. Bulma's decision was my own – I had no idea what to do with the story, with the ending. And when it came to me that it should end the way it did, it all seemed so fucking natural. It felt like a sense of destiny – this story simply *had* to end this way. And so it did. 

Finishing a project like this is beautiful, and I cannot thank you enough for allowing me to finish it. Special thanks go out to Sango, for being there for me the whole time, for brainstorming sessions and editing out my grammar mistakes (my English is getting better every day, but it still isn't sufficient) and my younger sister, Callisto, for her encouragement, but truly, I love you all.

Thank you SO much for sharing this experience with me.

_Cheers,_

_Lanfir__ Leah._


End file.
